•  BRECKENKIDGE  ELLIS 


&. 


ADNAH 

A  Tale  of  The  Time  of  Christ 


ADNAH 

A  Tale  o!  the  Time  ol  Christ 


By 

J.   BRECKENRIDGE   ELLIS 

Author  of 
Garcilaso,"  "The  Dread  and  Fear  of  Kings,"  etc. 


PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  6   CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


350^ 
L4M- 


Copyright,    1902, 
By  GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  Co. 

Published  October, 


Dedication 

Whence  comes  the  beauty  of  the  Rose  ? 
Not  in  a  day  its  wonder  grows, 
But  many  a  night  and  morning  sees 
It  drink  the  perfume  of  the  breeze, 

And  draughts  of  clear-gold  sunshine  cooled  in  mellow  dew, 
And  song  of  birds,  and  voice  of  love  forever  new. 
Then,  when  at  last  its  Day  has  come,  with  every  grateful  leaf  un 
furled, 
It  but  returns  in  other  form  that  which  it  borrowed  from  the  world. 

Whence  comes  a  Book-thought  ?     Not  as  sped 
Full-armed  Minerva  from  the  head. 
Nay,  many  a  passing  year  has  seen 
The  dust-thoughts  blown  about  some  theme 
Till  it  becomes  one's  own.     This  book  is  but  the  flower 
Of  thoughts   long   fed   upon   song,   light,  and  hope, — love's 

dower. 

So  in  this  book  I  but  return  the  borrowed  gifts,  true,  pure  and  rare, 
Which  a  FATHER  and  a  MOTHER  gave  in   other   form   of   love 
and  care. 


If  there  is  music  in  this  book, 
From  them  its  sweetest  tones  I  took. 
If  sunshine  gleams  along  its  line, 
It  was  their  smiles  that  made  it  mine. 
If  truth  eternal  precious  perfume  breathes 
Of  heavenly  message  from  its  outspread  leaves, 
That,  too,  is  borrowed.     As  the  rose  doth  dedicate  its  bloom  to 

earth, 

So  I  this  tale  to  those  from  whom  its  modest  merits  have  their 
birth. 


Contents 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  A    LOOSE    PLANK            ....  9 

II.  THE    PLANK    IS    NAILED    UP  l8 

III.  BLUE    EYES             .....  28 

iv.  MIRIAM'S  PUNISHMENT  37 

V.  THE    SEVENTH    HOUR              ...  47 

VI.  IN    DANGER          .....  60 

VII.  THE    TWO    BROTHERS               ...  66 

VIII.  ENTOMBED    IN    THE    CAVE    ...  76 

IX.  ONE    WAY    OF    ESCAPE              ...  86 

x.  MIRIAM'S  BIRTHDAY  GIFT           .         .  96 

XI.  THE    MAN    OF    THE    ABYSS    .             .             .  107 

XII.  A    GLIMPSE    OF    THE    WORLD           .             •  117 

XIII.  IN    MID-AIR          .  .  .  .  .124 

XIV.  ADNAH    LEARNS    THE    TRUTH         .  -134 

XV.  REVENGE                 .....  144 

XVI.  ALONE    WITH    HIS    ENEMY    .             .             .  156 

xvii.  THE  CENTURION'S  SLAVE    .         .         .  162 

XVIII.  THE    GLADIATOR            .             .             .  17! 

XIX.  IDDO             ......  189 

XX.  DESPAIR     ......  2O4 

XXI.  PURSUIT     .  222 


8 


Contents 


XXII.  MIRIAM  S    VOICE  .  .  .  232 

XXIII.  THE    VOICE    OF    LOVE  .  .  .  242 

XXIV.  GOTHINUS              .....  254 
XXV.  ADNAH    AND    IDDO       ....  260 

XXVI.  THE    WATCHERS  ....  275 

XXVII.  MUST    ADNAH    DIE  ?     .  .  .  .  284 

xxvin.  THE  GLADIATOR'S  LAST  STRUGGLE      .  293 

XXIX.  IDDO's    VICTORY  ....  302 


Adnah 

A  Tale  of  the  Time  of  Christ 


CHAPTER  I 

A   LOOSE  PLANK 

HERE,  at  last,  was  the  opportunity  for  which 
Miriam  so  long  had  waited.  Her  father,  who  was 
one  of  King  Herod's  chief  officers  in  Capernaum, 
had  departed  for  the  custom-house.  Her  mother 
and  her  brother  Reuben  had  left  home  at  the  same 
time,  the  latter  to  attend  school.  Thus  Miriam  and 
the  servants  were  left  in  possession  of  the  large 
estate. 

She  hurried  into  the  front  court  where  a  fountain 
sparkled  in  the  midst  of  flowers;  and  the  house, 
freshly  whitewashed,  seemed  to  smile  and  say, 
"  Who  would  ever  believe  that  I  am  made  of  black 
lava?" 

But  Miriam  did  not  pause  to  admire  the  beauty  of 
the  court,  for  this  she  saw  every  day, — she  was 
tired  of  it;  and  she  never  forgave  the  high  stone 
wall  that  surrounded  it,  excluding  from  sight  the 


i  o  Adnah 

slightest  glimpse  of  the  road.  However,  it  was  not 
the  street  that  excited  her  thirst  for  exploration,  but 
the  court  that  adjoined  her  father's.  In  the  cool  of 
the  evening  when  the  family  were  accustomed  to 
gather  upon  the  flat  roof  of  the  house,  Miriam 
sometimes  caught  sight  of  a  forlorn  figure  in  the 
next  yard.  It  was  a  boy,  older  than  herself,  she 
thought,  and  surely  very  miserable;  for  when  the 
family  next  door  gathered  upon  their  roof,  this 
youth  did  not  ascend  with  them,  but  either  crept 
forth  into  the  court  to  sit  beside  the  fountain,  or 
else  kept  within  doors. 

Miriam  often  wondered  why  the  boy  was  so  sad, 
and  why  he  did  not  mingle  with  the  others.  "  He 
is  a  slave,  no  doubt,"  Reuben  had  suggested.  Since 
Reuben  was  two  years  older  than  Miriam,  his  sister 
never  dared  to  contradict  him.  But  she  was  sure 
the  solitary  child  was  no  slave.  "He  is  a  very 
wicked  child,  no  doubt,"  her  father  had  once  sug 
gested;  "for  you  know  how  religious  Iddo  is, — a 
strict  Pharisee.  Iddo  would  not  forbid  a  good  child 
from  sitting  with  him  and  his  wife  upon  the  roof." 
Again  Miriam  did  not  reply,  although  she  felt  cer 
tain  that  the  boy  was  not  very  wicked. 

Yesterday  one  of  the  broad  planks  of  the  gate 
that  stood  between  the  two  courts,  had  suddenly 
fallen  to  the  ground,  while  a  strong  wind  was 


A  Loose  Plank  1 1 

blowing.  One  of  the  servants,  an  old  man  whose 
name  was  Zuph,  had  replaced  it.  For,  since  Iddo 
moved  next  door,  this  huge  gate  had  never  been 
used.  "I  must  make  this  strong  with  nails,"  said 
Zuph.  Then  he  went  away  and  forgot  all  about  it. 
This  was  the  opportunity  for  which  Miriam  had 
waited.  She  hurried  to  the  loose  plank.  It  was  an 
hour  after  the  noon  meal,  and  Iddo,  the  Pharisee, 
had  left  with  his  wife,— or  rather,  he  had  been  fol 
lowed  by  his  wife,  since  Iddo  was  too  good  a 
Pharisee  to  make  a  woman  his  equal.  And  the  boy 
was  in  the  court.  Miriam  had  seen  him  from  the 
latticed  window  of  an  upper  chamber. 

Looking  quickly  behind  her  to  see  that  none  of 
the  servants  were  at  the  windows,  the  girl  seized 
the  thick  dusty  board  by  means  of  a  rusty  spike 
that  had  failed  to  do  its  duty.  She  tried  to  lift  the 
board  out  from  among  its  neighbors,  but  it  was  too 
heavy.  She  put  forth  a  more  vigorous  effort,  and 
suddenly  the  top  trembled,  and  then  the  entire 
plank  bent  forward.  She  had  barely  time  to  spring 
out  of  the  way  before  it  fell  into  the  court  at  her 
feet.  She  uttered  a  low  cry  of  alarm,  but  in  a  brief 
time  recovered  her  courage  and  crept  to  the  open 
ing.  There  stood  the  boy,  peering  into  her  court. 

"How  shall  I  ever  get  it  up  again?"  she  ex 
claimed. 


1 2  Adnah 

"It  fell  yesterday,"  said  the  boy.  "Get  a  slave 
to  put  it  up.  But  how  did  it  fall  ?  For  no  wind 
blows." 

"I  pulled  it  down,"  said  Miriam. 

The  boy  stared  at  her.  "Will  they  not  beat 
you  ?  "  he  whispered. 

Miriam  laughed.  "I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said. 
"  But  why  have  you  been  crying  ?  " 

"I  have  not." 

"But  the  tears  are  not  yet  dry  upon  your  face," 
said  Miriam.  "When  I  cry  it  is  because  I  am  not  a 
boy;  but  why  &oyou  cry?" 

"It  is  the  water  from  the  fountain,"  said  the 
other.  "The  water-drops  splash  upon  my  face 
and  you  call  them  tears.  But  cry  no  more  to  be  a 
boy.  It  is  no  great  thing  to  be  a  boy!  Sometimes 
I  think  I  would  rather  be  Iddo's  dog,  for  then  I 
should  have  enough  to  eat." 

"  Why  do  you  call  your  father  so  ?  " 

"Iddo  is  not  my  father,  but  my  uncle." 

"Is,  then,  your  father  dead  ?" 

"  You  had  better  call  a  slave  to  put  up  the  plank," 
said  the  boy  sharply.  "I  do  not  wish  to  talk  with 
you!" 

"Do  not  say  that,"  exclaimed  Miriam.  "I  will 
not  speak  another  word  about  your  father.  But 
there  is  something  I  wish  very  much  to  know." 


A  Loose  Plank  13 

"  I  can  tell  you  nothing,  for  I  know  nothing.  I 
can  neither  read,  nor  write,  and  there  is  no  one  to 
teach  me  the  law.  But  now,  there  are  tears  in 
your  eyes, — wherefore  are  they  ?  " 

"Because  you  want  me  to  go  away,  and  you 
have  spoken  to  me,  as  others  do  not  speak." 

"I  am  sorry  I  have  grieved  you,  Miriam, — yes, 
that  is  the  name  they  call  you.  Often,  ah,  often,  I 
have  longed  to  see  Miriam,  for  they  will  not  allow 
me  upon  the  housetop.  And  when  your  family  is 
gathered  upon  your  house,  I  dare  not  look  up  to 
see.  So  I  have  often  sat  wondering  how  looks  the 
girl  they  call  Miriam, — the  girl  who  is  tired  of  her 
flowers  and  playthings, — while  I  have  nothing. 
And  when  the  plank  fell,  and  I  saw  your  face,— it 
was  a  dream  coming  true,  but  so  much  fairer  than 
the  dream!  But  when  you  spoke  of  my  father,  a 
devil  entered  within  me." 

"I  will  never,  never  mention  him  again,"  said 
the  girl. 

"It  is  on  his  account  that  I  am  treated  so,"  said 
the  other.  "Is  not  the  sin  of  the  father  visited 
upon  the  child  ?  That  is  about  all  of  Moses  and  the 
prophets  that  /  know!  Well  we  will  say  no  more 
about  it.  Forgive  my  anger.  Tell  me  what  you 
would  learn." 

"  I  would  ask  if  you  were   at  Cana  last  year, 


14  Adnah 

when  Iddo  and  his  wife  went  down  to  the  mar 
riage  feast." 

"Iddo  takes  me  nowhere.     I  know  when  you 
mean,  for  then  I  was  very  ill.     I  heard  Iddo  say  to 
his  wife,   whose  name  is  Hodesh,   'If  he  dies,— 
but  no  matter  what  he  said." 

"I  am  sorry  you  were  not  there.  But  you  may 
have  heard  your  uncle  speak  of  the  wonderful  thing 
that  happened  there." 

"He  tells  me  nothing.  But  I  pray  you,  tell  me 
what  you  heard,  for  there  is  none  who  ever  speaks 
with  me,  unless  to  say,  '  Do  this,'  or,  'Come,  take 
your  beating,'  or,  'The  master  says  you  are  to  fast 
this  day.'" 

"Then  this  is  what  I  heard,"  said  Miriam;  "  for 
one  of  the  servants  of  Iddo  told  Zuph,  and  Zuph 
told  my  father.  At  this  marriage  feast,  the  wine 
gave  out.  There  was  a  man  there  of  Nazareth,— 
His  name  is  Jesus.  His  mother  said  to  Him,  '  The 
wine  is  all  gone/  and  her  son  said,  'Why  do  you 
come  to  Me  ?  Am  I  the  master  of  the  house  ?'  'I 
know  you  can  give  them  whatever  good  thing  they 
need,'  His  mother  answered,  or  something  like 
that.  Well,  there  happened  to  be  a  dozen  big 
water-pots  standing  along  the  wall,  and  Jesus  said 
to  the  servants,  '  Bring  water  and  fill  them  to  the 
brim.'  They  did  so.  And  Zuph  says,  that  the 


A  Loose  Plank  15 

servant  of  your  uncle  told  him,  that  the  water 
turned  into  wine  then  and  there,  upon  the  spot! " 

"  It  is  a  strange  story,"  said  the  boy.  "  And  if  it 
is  true,  He  must  be  a  strange  man,  this  Jesus;  a 
magician,  doubtless." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  were  not  there,"  said  Miriam, 
once  more,  "for  I  would  know  what  word  Jesus 
said  when  He  turned  the  water  into  wine,  or  how 
He  moved  His  hand,  and  how  it  tasted,  after 
wards." 

"I  would  I  knew  the  magic,  also,"  said  the  other, 
"for  in  that  case,  I  would  turn  this  whole  fountain 
into  the  choicest  vintage;  though  to  be  plain,  I 
would  rather  convert  these  stones  into  bread  and 
meat." 

"Stay  here,"  cried  Miriam,  "and  I  will  bring 
you  something." 

"  How  swift  and  beautiful  your  feet! "  exclaimed 
the  boy.  "You  go  and  come  like  a  thought  that 
the  mind  has  grown  fond  of.  And  what  have  we 
here  ?  Dates, — bread, — cold  mutton, — and  an  angel ; 
all  four!"  He  began  to  eat  ravenously.  "  Iddo 
must  not  see  this,"  he  said  apologetically,  as  he 
took  a  large  bite  of  meat.  He  was  very  thin  and 
white,  and  Miriam  enjoyed  his  eating  more  than  she 
could  have  imagined.  "Things  don't  taste  very 
good  to  me,  any  more,"  she  mused!  "There  are 


16  Adnah 

days  and  days  when  I  would  as  soon  not  eat  as  eat. 
But  you  have  eaten  bread,  meat  and  dates;  you 
must  save  the  angel  for  another  time! " 

"If  I  could  only  do  something  to  make  you  as 
happy!  Iddo  is  a  miser.  That  is  why  he  makes 
me  fast  so  often,  and  feeds  me  upon  bread  and 
water,  till  I  grow  a  shadow.  And  he  only  keeps 
one  slave, — the  one  who  knows  your  Zuph.  Iddo 
is  growing  rich.  He  is  a  great  Pharisee.  He 
spends  most  of  his  money  in  almsgiving,  for 
others  to  see.  You  think  I  ought  not  to  speak  so 
of  my  uncle.  Perhaps.  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

"I  am  fourteen.  But  I  dare  not  stay  longer.  I 
am  afraid  they  will  find  me  here, — does  that  show 
I  am  doing  wrong  ?  But  I  am  not  a  very  good  girl. 
I  do  not  go  to  the  Synagogue  if  I  can  help  it.  Any 
way,  religion  is  for  men,  Reuben  says;  Reuben  is 
my  brother;  he  will  be  a  priest.  You  must  help 
me  lift  up  this  plank,  although  you  don't  look  very 
strong,  do  you  ?  " 

The  boy  blushed.  "Why  do  you  mock  me?" 
he  returned.  "I  would  not  have  thought  that  of 
you." 

"  Why!  "  exclaimed  Miriam.  "  It  is  for  that  very 
reason, — your  not  being  strong, — that  I  like  you, 
and  talk  to  you.  Don't  you  understand  ?  But  I 
must  go,  now.  I  would  I  knew  your  name;  then 


A  Loose  Plank 


17 


when  I  see  you  in  the  court,  I  can  give  my  thought 
a  name,  and  send  it  to  you." 

"I  am  Adnah,"  said  the  boy,  "and  my  age  is 
sixteen.  And  the  next  time  you  are  upon  the  roof 
of  your  house,  and  I  am  in  my  court,  I  will  look  up, 
and  see  you,  and  think,  '  There  are  good  wishes  for 
me  up  in  the  blue  sky! ' ' 

The  heavy  plank  was  now  in  place  once  more. 
"  Good-bye," said  Miriam.  "Good-bye,"  answered 
Adnah.  The  girl  knocked  with  her  knuckles  upon 
her  side  of  the  plank.  "What  a  friendly  sound 
that  is!"  cried  Adnah,  and  he  knocked  also.  Then 
Miriam  ran  away. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   PLANK   IS   NAILED   UP 

"  I  HAVE  been  looking  for  you,  Zuph,"  said 
Miriam.  "  Let  us  sit  upon  this  bench.  I  have  a 
favor  to  ask." 

The  old  servant  smiled  kindly  at  the  girl,  and 
obediently  followed  her  across  the  court  to  a  spot 
where  the  flowers  formed  a  cozy  retreat.  "Now 
we  are  all  alone,  Zuph,  and  you  are  to  hear  my 
secret.  It  is  this,  that  a  very  unhappy  boy  lives  on 
the  other  side  of  that  ugly  fence,  a  boy  who  never 
has  enough  to  eat,  and  no  one  to  talk  to.  And  al 
though  the  house  is  large,  and  his  uncle  is  rich,— 
for  Iddo  is  not  his  father, — does  that  matter?  For 
if  I  lived  in  the  palace  of  King  Herod,  and  there 
should  be  no  love  for  me,  I  might  as  well  be  a  bird 
in  a  cage." 

"How  know  you  these  facts  and  this  philos 
ophy  ?"  asked  the  old  man,  rumpling  his  white  hair 
in  some  perplexity. 

"As  to  how  I  know  these  facts,  that  is  a 
mystery.  As  to  philosophy,  I  know  it  not.  But 

when  one  is  without  food,  he  is  apt  to  be  hungry, 

18 


The   Plank  is  Nailed  Up  19 

is  it  not  so  ?  His  uncle  is  a  miser,  and  starves 
him." 

"  I  cannot  imagine  how  you  know  these  things," 
remarked  the  old  man.  "Who  has  been  here? 
Surely  the  gate  has  not  been  opened." 

Miriam  laughed.  "I  have  a  story  you  do  not 
know.  But  I  will  tell  it,  if  first  you  tell  again  about 
that  marriage  feast  in  Cana." 

"  You  have  heard  it  twenty  times,  Miriam." 

"  But  I  like  to  hear  it  over  and  over  again.  It  is 
just  as  strange  as  when  it  was  new." 

"  Iddo's  slave  told  me,"  said  Zuph.  "  He  went 
with  his  master  to  this  feast.  There  was  great  re 
joicing,  and  three  days  were  to  be  the  limit  of  the 
festivities.  But  it  appears  that  the  bridegroom  was 
so  taken  up  with  thoughts  of  his  fair  bride,  that  he 
had  failed  to  provide  for  the  wants  of  his  guests. 
The  wine  gave  out.  At  this  feast  was  Mary, — the 
widow  of  Joseph  of  Nazareth, — and  her  son,  Jesus. 
His  mother  told  Him  the  wine  was  no  more.  There 
happened  to  be  eight  water-pots  — 

"  Was  it  eight  ?    I  told  Adnah  twelve." 

"And  who  is  Adnah?"  demanded  the  old  man. 
"  And  where  have  you  been  telling  this  tale  ?" 

Miriam  laughed.  "1  will  tell  you  story  for 
story,"  she  said.  "But  go  on;  eight  water- 
pots— 


2o  Adnah 

"And  Jesus  turned  the  water  into  wine.  Here 
is  a  strange  thing;  only  the  water  that  was  drawn 
from  the  vessels  became  wine;  that  in  the  vessels 
was  still  sparkling  water.  And  the  master  of  the 
feast  said  it  was  the  best  they  had  drunk.  You  see, 
he  didn't  know  where  it  came  from." 

"  And  did  no  one  know  but  the  servants  ?  " 

"Yes,  Jesus  has  five  followers,  who  think  Him 
some  great  one.  Four  of  them  are  of  Bethsaida, — 
you  know  that  little  town  just  north  of  here.  John 
and  Philip,  are  two,  and  the  other  two  are  brothers; 
Andrew  and  Simon.  The  fifth  lives  in  Cana,  itself. 
He  is  Nathanael.  They  saw  what  Jesus  did,  and 
now  they  believe  Him  to  be  some  great  prophet. 
But  who  is  this  Adnah  ?" 

"  In  a  moment,  Zuph.  But  why  do  these  five 
men  follow  Jesus  ?  Have  they  no  homes  of  their 
own?" 

"  I  know  not.  But  this  I  know,  that  Jesus  is  but 
a  simple  carpenter.  However,  there  are  most 
marvelous  tales  about  Him,  and  these  I  have  not 
from  Iddo's  slave,  but  from  many  who  have  seen 
Him.  But  why  should  I  speak  these  things  ?  Are 
you  not  the  daughter  of  a  nobleman,  a  great  Sad- 
ducee,  the  officer  of  King  Herod  ?  It  is  not  for 
your  ears  to  learn  of  a  poor  carpenter!  " 

"Ah,    but  tell   me,    dear  Zuph.     My  ears   have 


The   Plank  is  Nailed  Up  21 

never  been  proud  because  their  mistress  is  the 
daughter  of  a  nobleman." 

"That  is  true, — you  are  a  kind  child,  Miriam, 
and  never  impatient  with  an  old  man.  Jesus  is 
about  thirty  years  old.  Now,  what  I  am  about  to 
tell  you  are  reports,  merely.  I  know  not  if  half  is 
true.  I  care  not  if  you  disbelieve  it  all,  so  you  are 
entertained.  When  Jesus  was  born,  some  great 
men  from  the  far  East  came  to  do  Him  honor  be 
cause  they  thought  He  was  a  prince  and  would  one 
day  become  king  over  the  Jews.  Herod,  the  Great, 
the  father  of  our  King  Herod,  heard  of  the  birth, 
and  being  naturally  jealous  of  any  one  in  power, 
and  always  afraid  his  throne  would  pass  to  another, 
decided  to  kill  the  child.  Joseph  heard  of  his  in 
tention,  and  went  far  away  to  Egypt  with  his  wife 
and  babe.  Herod  had  every  infant  in  that  part  of 
the  country  killed  from  two  years  old  and  under, 
thinking  he  would  certainly  destroy  the  prince, — 
if  prince  He  was. 

"After  Herod  the  Great  died,  the  family  came  to 
Nazareth.  Joseph  was  a  carpenter,  and  he  followed 
his  trade.  He  had  other  children,  sons  and  daugh 
ters,  but  somehow,  they  were  never  just  like  Jesus. 
They  were  not  educated;  no  one  taught  them  to 
read  and  write.  The  others  didn't  want  to  learn. 
But  Jesus  was  studious.  He  loved  the  synagogue, 


22  Adnah 

and  He  would  listen  to  the  law  with  such  an  at 
tentive  face  and  large  serious  eyes!  as  if  His  child 
ish  mind  was  seeking  to  grasp  its  meaning,— 
something  that  is  beyond  the  accomplishment 
of  a  lifetime, — He  was  the  admiration  of  the 
scribes.  They  said,  '  That  lad  will  one  day  be 
a  great  Rabbi,' — for  you  know  the  poorest  and 
lowliest  may,  by  study,  become  famous  as  a 
teacher. 

"When  He  was  twelve  or  thirteen  years  old,  His 
parents  took  Him  up  to  Jerusalem  to  the  feast  of 
the  passover.  The  robbers  were  very  numerous  in 
those  days,  just  as  they  are  now,  and  in  the  same 
way  as  now,  many  people  went  together.  You 
have  heard  of  Simon  the  leper  ?  " 

Miriam  shuddered.     "  Yes,  I  have  heard." 

"  He  was  not  a  leper,  then.  He  lived  in  Bethany. 
He  met  the  caravan  that  went  up  from  Nazareth,  he 
and  his  family." 

"I  never  heard  that  the  leper  has  a  family,"  said 
the  girl. 

"Yes, — he  has  a  son,  of  about  the  same  age  as 
Jesus,  whose  name  is  Lazarus.  It  is  from  Lazarus 
that  I  got  this  story.  The  two  boys  became  greatly 
attached  to  each  other  on  the  journey,  and  during 
the  seven  days  of  the  feast.  They  were  much 
alike  in  their  gentleness  and  kindness.  On  the 


The   Plank  is  Nailed  Up  23 

eighth  day,  the  caravan  set  out  on  its  return. 
Scarcely  had  they  lost  Jerusalem  in  the  distance, 
when  the  rumor  of  a  band  of  thieves  spread  among 
them.  The  women  were  put  in  the  midst,  and  the 
men  stood  with  stout  clubs  waiting  for  an  attack. 
Suddenly  Lazarus  cried  out,  'Where  is  Jesus?' 
And  sure  enough,  the  carpenter's  son  was  not  to  be 
found !  Full  of  uneasiness  the  whole  party  hastened 
back,  searching  along  the  way,  thinking  He  might 
have  been  captured  and  carried  off  for  ransom. 
They  entered  the  city,  and  went  to  the  inn  where 
Mary  and  Joseph  had  been  staying.  Nothing  had 
been  seen  of  the  boy.  '  Perhaps  He  is  at  the 
Temple,'  said  Lazarus. 

"And  there  they  found  Him!  Mary  asked, 
'Jesus,  why  have  you  treated  us  so?  Your  father 
and  I  have  been  looking  everywhere  for  you,  and 
our  hearts  were  torn  with  fears  and  grief.'  The 
boy  answered,  'It  is  strange  you  searched  for  Me; 
you  might  have  known  I  would  be  only  in  one 
place, — the  Temple.  Do  you  not  know,'  He  said, 
'that  I  must  be  about  My  Father's  business?' 
Those  were  His  words;  Lazarus  heard  them. 
What  did  He  mean  ?  Surely  a  strange  boy  was 
this  son  of  Joseph!  If  you  will  believe  me,  Miriam, 
that  child  was  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  doctors, 
and  was  listening  attentively  to  their  words,  and 


24  Adnah 

answering  their  difficult  questions  in  such  a  man 
ner  as  to  overwhelm  them  with  astonishment." 
"  What  sort  of  questions  were  they,  Zuph  ?  " 
"  Questions  about  the  Christ  who  is  to  come." 
"The    Christ?"     repeated    Miriam.      "Who  is 
that  ?  " 

"No  matter,  dear.  This  is  not  for  women  to 
know.  Besides,  your  father,  as  a  Sadducee,  does 
not  believe  in  any  such.  But  Jesus  went  back  with 
His  parents  and  lived  with  them,  and  worked  at 
the  trade.  Joseph  died — but  this  is  enough.  You 
must  tell  me  of  Adnah." 

"Dear  Zuph,  tell  me  more  about  Jesus.  I  know 
I  should  have  loved  Him.  Tell  every  word." 

"There's  little  more,  that  I  know.  Year  by  year 
He  grew  more  and  more  unlike  His  brothers  and 
sisters.  He  seemed  to  be  always  thinking, — think 
ing, — thinking.  His  face  grew  brighter  as  if  there 
was  an  inward  light  that  flamed  higher  all  the  time. 
And  although  the  living  was  sufficient,  and  affairs 
went  well,  a  sadness  began  to  settle  upon  Him,  as 
if  He  felt  more  and  more  some  strange,  wild  destiny. 
Yet  when  He  was  with  others,  He  strove  to  throw 
aside  this  melancholy.  He  was  accustomed  to 
wander  at  night  in  solitude,  and  sometimes  when 
He  returned  there  would  be  tears  in  His  eyes.  He 
was  never  heard  to  blame  Providence,  nor  to  cen- 


The  Plank  is  Nailed  Up  25 

sure  the  faults  of  the  poor.  Once  He  disappeared 
for  forty  days  and  nights  in  the  wilderness,  and 
when  He  came  back,  He  was  changed.  He  wore 
the  look  of  a  man  who  has  accepted  the  inevitable 
with  meekness,  and  who  has  resolved  to  bear  sor 
row  with  cheerfulness.  Yet  what  is  this  sorrow  ? 
Nobody  knows. 

"After  He  turned  the  water  into  wine,  He  and 
His  disciples  went  up  to  Jerusalem  to  the  feast. 
After  that  I  know  nothing.  It  has  been  nine  or  ten 
months  ago.  Now,  who  is  Adnah  ?" 

"He  is  the  boy  who  lives  next  door.  And  oh, 
Zuph!  this  is  my  request,  do  not  nail  up  that  loose 
plank  in  the  gate!  " 

"Ha!"  cried  Zuph.  "Now  I  see  it  all!  So  it 
was  through  the  opening  that  you  two  became 
acquainted.  Who  would  have  thought  it! " 

"But,  Zuph,  you  are  not  angry?  You  will  leave 
the  board  loose  ?" 

"Let  it  be  nailed  up  at  once!"  said  an  angry 
voice  behind  them.  Miriam  turned  pale.  It  was 
her  brother,  Reuben.  "So  you  have  spoken  to 
that  wretch!"  continued  the  boy  advancing. 
"Well  it  is,  that  the  Rabbi  was  sick  and  we  held  no 
school  to-day!  Some  one  is  needed  to  watch  over 
you.  What  will  you  do  next,  1  wonder?  Truly 
did  our  wise  Rabbi  say,  but  yesterday,  '  there  are 


26  Adnah 

two  things  never  to  be  left  alone;  a  fire,  and  a 
woman.' " 

Reuben  was  a  handsome  youth,  sixteen  years  old, 
and  full  of  the  authority  that  belonged  to  so  great 
an  age.  Tears  sprang  to  Miriam's  eyes.  "  I  saw 
no  harm  in  speaking  to  him,"  she  said. 

"It  is  not  for  a  girl  to  see  the  wrong,  nor  the 
right,"  said  Reuben  more  calmly.  "  I  do  not  blame 
you,  for  such  is  your  nature.  But  while  1  do  not 
blame,  I  shall  protect,  for  you  are  my  sister.  Be 
sides,  if  you  knew  about  that  Adnah,  even  you, 
perhaps, — 1  am  not  sure,  but  perhaps  you, — would 
scorn  him." 

"Tell  me,"  said  Miriam,  while  old  Zuph  hastened 
away  to  nail  up  the  plank. 

Reuben's  voice  assumed  tones  of  awful  meaning. 
"Miriam,  girl,  that  Adnah  is  the  son  of  a  thief!  His 
father  is  even  now  a  slave  in  the  palace  of  Pontius 
Pilate.  Pilate  took  a  fancy  to  him,  and  spared  him 
from  the  cross.  Do  you  understand  ?  Justice  de 
manded  his  crucifixion! " 

"  But  what  did  Adnah  do?"  inquired  Miriam. 

"  What  did  he  do  ?  Is  not  his  father's  sin  his  sin  ? 
But  you  do  not  know  these  things.  It  is  well.  The 
law  is  not  for  women." 

"Do  tell  me  this,  Reuben,  since  you  have  studied 
all  such  matters.  Do  you  believe  in  angels  ?  " 


The  Plank  is  Nailed  Up  27 

"  I  am  a  Sadducee,  and  believe  in  nothing  but  the 
law.  Angels?  No  more  than  in  the  resurrection! 
Who  has  been  speaking  to  you  of  angels  ?  Old 
Zuph ?  " 

"No,  brother." 

"Then  it  was  this  profligate  thief,  Adnah.  For 
there  is  no  talk  of  angels  in  this  house!  What  said 
he  ?  I  command  you  to  tell." 

"  He  said  nothing, — only — he  called  me  one." 

For  a  moment  Reuben  stood  spellbound  in  his 
wrath.  Then  he  dashed  across  the  court  to  Zuph. 
"Hammer,  hammer  with  a  will!"  he  said.  "And 
if  there  are  not  enough  nails  in  Capernaum,  send  to 
Cana!  ' 


CHAPTER  III 

BLUE   EYES 

MIRIAM  was  very  unhappy  until  her  mother  re 
turned  from  her  visit.  The  girl  sat  in  the  large  liv 
ing-room,  furtively  watching  her  brother.  Reuben 
held  a  long  roll  in  his  hand,  his  eyes  austerely  fas 
tened  upon  the  Hebrew  text.  Once  she  had  spoken. 
"Brother,  will  you  tell  about  Adnah?"  Reuben 
did  not  lift  his  eyes.  Instead  of  answering,  he  read 
aloud, 

"  '  If  a  thief  be  found  breaking  up,  and  be  smitten 
that  he  die,  there  shall  be  no  blood  shed  for  him.'" 
Why  did  he  read  about  thieves  ?  Was  it  not  because 
Adnah's  father  was  a  thief  ?  And  so  by  the  law,  the 
killing  of  a  thief  is  not  to  be  a  matter  of  retaliation. 
A  thief  is  nothing, — his  life  of  no  account.  But 
what  then?  Adnah  was  no  thief.  Could  he  help 
what  his  father  had  done  ?  Was  he  not  to  be  pitied 
for  having  such  a  father?  True,  the  law  held  him 
guilty,  or  at  least  so  Reuben  said,  and  Reuben  must 
know;  but  Reuben  had  said,  also,  that  the  law  was 
not  for  women.  Then  Miriam  could  pity  Adnah; 

and  she  did,  with  all  her  heart. 

28 


Blue  Eyes  29 

Her  mother  returned.  Miriam  said  to  herself, 
"Now  Reuben  will  tell."  But  her  brother  put  up 
his  roll,  still  looking  stern  and  threatening.  The 
mother  had  many  things  to  relate  concerning  her 
visit.  Her  daughter  listened  with  a  heavy  weight 
upon  her  heart.  Would  her  mother  smile  so  ten 
derly,  and  speak  so  cheerily,  if  she  knew  about  that 
episode  of  the  loose  plank?  "I  am  sorry,"  she 
thought,  "so  very  sorry  !  If  the  plank  were^ow?, 
I  would  never  go  there  again." 

"How  still  you  are,  my  daughter!"  said  the 
other  at  last.  "You  ask  not  a  word  about  your 
aunt.  And  Reuben,  you  appear  sorrowful.  Has 
anything  happened  ?  " 

Miriam  held  her  breath. 

Reuben  looked  upon  the  floor.  "  It  is  nothing," 
he  said  and  left  the  room.  Miriam's  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  She  loved  her  brother  dearly,  and  she 
hastened  after  him,  although  she  felt  a  little 
afraid. 

"My  brother,"  she  said,  "I  am  so  very  sorry  it 
happened.  I  will  never  do  that  again." 

"Truly,  since  the  plank  is  nailed  up,"  returned 
Reuben  coldly. 

"  But  even  if  it  were  loose!  It  is  because  I  have 
offended  you;  and  I  fear  my  mother  and  father  will 
feel  as  you.  Are  you  going  to  tell  about  it  ?  " 


30  Adnah 

"So  that  is  it!"  said  Reuben.  "  I  have  not  yet 
made  up  my  mind." 

"No,  that  is  not  it,  Reuben.  Well  you  know 
how  I  ever  seek  to  please  you,  my  brother.  What 
would  I  not  do  to  increase  your  happiness!  But 
always,  yes,  always,  you  treat  me  as  if  I  were  alto 
gether  out  of  your  life." 

"No,  Miriam,  you  are  unjust.  My  affection  for 
you  is  not  shown  in  idle  words,  but  in  the  nailing 
up  of  planks  and  in  making  other  hedges  about 
you." 

"Hedges!  It  is  because  I  am  a  girl  that  no  trust 
can  be  put  in  me." 

"Miriam,  we  might  stand  here  and  argue  for 
hours,  but  that  would  not  alter  this  fact;  you  have 
sinned.  A  sin  which  is  not  punished,  is  like  a  good 
deed  unrewarded.  However,  I  do  not  say  I  shall 
tell  about  your  misdeed.  But  leave  me  now;  I 
would  meditate, — and  your  face  reminds  me  of 
your  secret  dealings  with  that  wretched  Adnah." 

A  little  after  sunset,  Miriam's  father  returned 
home,  his  manner  denoting  a  pleasant  excitement. 
"A  treat  for  us  all,"  he  cried.  "Lucius,  the  cen 
turion,  takes  a  moonlight  ride  upon  the  sea  to 
night,  and  he  has  invited  me  and  my  family.  Get 
you  fin?  apparel,  little  girl,  and  look  as  brave  as  you 
may! " 


Blue  Eyes  31 

Miriam  looked  at  Reuben  beseechingly.  Suppose 
he  should  speak  now!  In  that  case,  perhaps  she 
would  be  ordered  to  remain  with  the  servants. 
"Why  don't  you  hurry?"  Reuben  asked  her,  not 
unkindly.  She  could  have  fallen  at  his  feet  with 
joy  at  his  tone.  Perhaps  he  would  never  tell  about 
her  adventure;  perhaps  he  thought  her  punished 
enough. 

There  were  two  reasons  why  Joel,  the  father  of 
Reuben,  did  not  hesitate  to  associate  with  a  Roman. 
In  the  first  place,  he  was  a  Sadducee,  and  his  party 
was  the  friend  of  Rome,  having  a  contempt  for  the 
"purifications"  of  the  Pharisees.  In  the  second 
place,  this  centurion  was  only  half  a  pagan.  He 
had  lost  all  belief  in  his  own  gods,  and  being  won 
by  the  purer  religion  of  the  Jews,  he  had  built  for 
them  the  beautiful  marble  synagogue  in  Capernaum. 

The  moon  rose  early,  and  its  light  fell  upon  the 
deck  of  a  small  Roman  galley  which  the  centurion 
had  built  for  his  pleasure.  The  Roman  officers  and 
their  wives  and  children  had  thrown  off  the  restraint 
of  garrison  life.  Joel,  as  a  nobleman,  the  chief 
official  of  the  custom,  mingled  with  them  as  an 
equal,  although,  of  course,  it  was  never  forgotten 
that  he  had  not  been  born  in  Rome.  Lucius  the 
centurion  seated  himself  upon  a  rich  cushion  by  the 
side  of  Anna,  the  wife  of  Joel,  while  at  his  feet  lay 


32  Adnah 

a  boy  of  about  Reuben's  age,  whose  features  were 
neither  Roman,  Jewish,  nor  Grecian.  Miriam,  who 
sat  beside  Reuben,  looked  at  the  boy  curiously, 
wondering  to  what  barbarous  nation  he  belonged. 
The  boy's  eyes  were  blue,  and  as  fair  as  the  Sea  of 
Galilee  over  which  the  galley-slaves  were  speeding 
the  ship.  His  hair  was  long  and  yellow,  like  the 
moonlight  which  flooded  the  deck.  His  face  and 
hands  were  white,  and  in  contrast  with  them, 
Reuben's  face  appeared  unusually  stern  and  dark. 
The  monotonous  splash  of  the  oars,  the  rushing  of 
the  water  as  it  sped  past  the  vessel,  and  the  con 
tinuous  hum  of  voices,  mingled  with  music  from  a 
band  of  players. 

It  was  the  gayest  scene  in  which  Miriam  had  ever 
been  placed.  With  deep  breaths  of  delight  she 
watched  the  great  moon  circling  above  the  hills 
which  drew  their  skirts  back  from  the  water's  edge; 
and  the  line  of  brilliant  white  left  in  the  wake  of 
the  ship,  which  foamed  and  bubbled  till  far  away  it 
melted  and  became  lost  in  blue;  and  that  strange 
white  face  of  the  blue-eyed  youth.  Presently  she 
stole  forth  her  hand  and  found  Reuben's  and  drew 
his  hand  to  her.  "Is  it  not  all  beautiful?"  she 
said. 

Reuben  drew  his  hand  quickly  away.  "Your 
touch  is  cold,"  he  said  the  next  moment,  as  if  to  ex- 


Blue  Eyes  33 

plain  his  impatience.  But  Miriam  suddenly  remem 
bered  that  he  was  offended, — she  had  forgotten  all 
about  her  sorrow.  And  then  tears  came  to  her  eyes 
and  blotted  out  the  sea  and  the  moon,  and  happi 
ness. 

Lucius,  the  centurion,  was  speaking  to  Anna. 
"  Does  not  Iddo's  house  adjoin  yours  ?  " 

"It  does,"  Miriam's  mother  replied.  "  There  is 
only  a  high  wall  between.''  Reuben  began  to 
cough  significantly.  Miriam  turned  cold. 

"So  1  thought.  And  I  suppose  he  is  no  great 
friend  of  your  husband,  since  Iddo  is  a  Pharisee?" 

"He  has  a  true  Pharisee's  contempt  for  us  all," 
said  Anna,  smiling  contentedly. 

The  Roman  laughed.  "  I  would  you  could  have 
seen  him  to-day!  He  passed  me  in  the  street,  and 
my  robe  touched  his  hand.  He  scowled.  '  See 
what  trouble  you  have  given  me!'  he  snarled. 
1  What  trouble,  my  friend  ? '  I  asked.  '  What 
trouble?' said  he;  'must  not  I  now  go  home  and 
baptize  myself  and  all  my  garments  in  water  ? — for 
a  Gentile  has  polluted  me  with  his  touch!'  And 
away  went  he.  By  the  way,  that  boy  who  lives 
with  him — his  nephew, — he  is  the  son  of  a  thief, 
Iddo's  brother.  But  Iddo  has  renounced  his  brother, 
of  course,  as  he  is  now  Pilate's  slave." 

Reuben  groaned. 


34  Adnah 

"Yes,  this  brother  of  Iddo, — his  name  is  Samuel, 
— right  good  cause  have  I  to  know !  For  Samuel 
was  under  me,  he  sat  at  the  receipt  of  custom.  It 
appears  that  he  would  never  study,  when  young, 
or  cultivate  a  liking  for  the  law.  He  was  an  easy 
going  fellow,  with  a  healthy  scorn  for  his  brother's 
sect.  So  he  was  content  to  be  a  publican,  and  col 
lect  the  taxes.  That  is  how  he  became  a  thief.  He 
had  no  friends  on  account  of  his  trade,  for  who  will 
speak  with  a  publican,  my  our  country  ?  I  suppose 
the  temptation  was  too  great,  and  he  saw  before 
him  a  short  cut  to  riches.  So  his  receipts  dimin 
ished.  I  suspected  and  watched.  His  account  was 
correct,  but  the  money  in  his  bag, — where  was  it  ? 
So  he  became  subject  to  Rome,  and  Pilate  took  a 
fancy  to  him  and  spared  him  the  cross.  There  is 
another  man  in  his  place,  now,  with  two  names,  it 
appears,  for  some  call  him  Levi,  but  he  calls  himself 
Matthew." 

"But  this  brother  of  Iddo,  this  thief  whom  you 
call  Samuel,"  said  Reuben,  "has  he  a  family  ?" 

"Only  the  boy.  His  wife, — there  is  another 
strange  thing, — is  a  Samaritan  woman.  Oh,  this 
Samuel  was  a  reckless  fellow,  by  all  accounts!  His 
wife  went  back  to  Samaria,  where  she  married  four 
more  times, — her  husbands  having  a  convenient 
manner  of  dying.  If  she  has  got  her  a  sixth  hus- 


Blue  Eyes  35 

band,  now,  I  know  not.  But  one  thing  is  sure,— 
she  cared  nothing  for  her  son,  Adnah." 

"Then  this  Adnah's  father  is  not  only  a  thief,  but 
his  mother  a  Samaritan!  "  exclaimed  Reuben. 

"You  have  said,"  replied  the  Roman.  Reuben 
looked  at  Miriam.  "Now  do  you  not  hate  this 
wretched  son?"  he  whispered.  A  sudden  spirit  of 
revolt  rose  up  within  the  girl.  She  turned  to  the 
centurion.  "  But  wherein  is  Adnah  to  blame  ?  "  she 
demanded  in  a  clear  voice. 

"  Miriam! "  exclaimed  her  mother.  "Is  it  fora 
girl  to  speak  in  the  presence  of  men  ?" 

"She  speaks  as  a  Roman!"  cried  Lucius  admir 
ingly.  "I  thought  no  Jew  would  have  asked  that 
question!  "  Miriam  became  suddenly  ashamed  and 
hung  her  head.  Reuben  rose  impatiently,  and 
backed  from  her,  as  if  he  could  no  longer  endure 
her  presence.  But  his  youthful  dignity  was  destined 
to  a  brief  existence.  He  had  forgotten  that  he  was 
near  the  railing  of  the  deck,  and  as  he  retreated  with 
indignant  eyes  and  tossing  hair,  he  suddenly  struck 
against  the  top-rail,  lost  his  balance  and  fell  back 
ward.  His  body  disappeared  from  sight  in  the  very 
water  that  was  being  beaten  by  the  strokes  of  the 
massive  oars.  Anna  and  Miriam  each  gave  a  loud 
shriek,  for  his  doom  appeared  certain.  The  soldiers 
in  their  heavy  armor  remained  motionless,  surprised 


36  Adnah 

at  the  cries,  and  Joel,  the  father,  was  so  far  away 
that  he  did  not  even  notice  the  excitement. 

The  rowers  were  each  chained  by  a  leg  to  the 
bench  upon  which  they  sat,  so  no  help  was  to  be 
expected  from  these  slaves.  The  centurion  in  a 
hoarse  voice  shouted  to  the  master  to  stop  the  ship. 
The  command  was  obeyed,  but  not  instantly,  since 
the  ship  had  gained  an  impetus  which  was  for  a 
time  irresistible.  In  the  meantime  Miriam,  without 
an  instant's  hesitation,  had  run  to  the  youth  with  the 
yellow  hair  and  blue  eyes.  She  scarcely  knew  why 
she  did  so,  unless  it  was  because  she  had  observed 
his  strong,  massive  limbs,  and  the  look  of  gentle 
ness,  yet  resolution,  upon  his  face.  The  boy  still 
sat  cross-legged  upon  the  deck.  Miriam  fell  upon 
her  knees  beside  him  and  clasped  her  hands  wildly. 
"  You  can  save  him!"  she  faltered. 

The  youth  sprung  to  his  feet  and  lifted  her  from 
her  knees.  Then  he  fell  upon  one  knee  before  her, 
and  said,  in  a  foreign  accent,  "  I  ask  no  more,  than 
to  die  for  you."  The  next  moment  he  rose,  and, 
leaping  upon  the  top-rail,  stood  poised  in  that  dan 
gerous  position,  while  his  flashing  blue  eyes  scanned 
the  water  eagerly.  Suddenly  he  threw  himself  into 
the  sea. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MIRIAM'S  PUNISHMENT 

REUBEN  lay  cold  and  dripping  upon  the  deck.  He 
was  still  unconscious.  The  youth  who  had  rescued 
him  from  the  sea,  was  below.  Anna  and  Joel  were 
chafing  the  limbs  of  their  son.  Miriam  wept  apart. 
Lucius,  the  centurion,  had  taken  his  own  red  cloak 
from  his  shoulders  to  wrap  about  the  boy.  The 
ship  had  been  turned  about,  and  was  making  for 
the  northwestern  shore  where  Capernaum's  white 
washed  houses  gleamed  in  the  moonlight.  The 
band  of  players  had  stopped  their  music,  and  the 
Roman  soldiers  conversed  in  low  tones. 

At  last  the  pale  boy  sighed  and  opened  his  eyes. 
Anna  gave  a  glad  exclamation,  at  which  Miriam 
sank  down  beside  her  brother  in  the  sudden  revul 
sion  of  hope.  Now  she  dared  open  her  eyes  and 
look  at  him.  Yes,  he  was  alive!  Miriam  caught 
the  passive  hand  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips.  "  What 
is  it?"  Reuben  asked.  "Why  are  your  faces  so 
anxious  ?  But  it  is  very  cold  ?  " 

"We  shall  soon  be  home,"  said  his  father. 
"You  fell  into  the  sea,  but  now  you  are  safe 
enough." 

37 


38  Adnah 

Reuben  rose  upon  one  elbow.  "Who  drew  me 
from  the  water?"  he  asked,  weakly;  "for  I  know 
nothing." 

"It  was  the  youth  with  the  blue  eyes,"  said 
Miriam.  His  sister's  voice  recalled  him  completely 
to  himself.  Why  was  she  holding  his  hand  ?  The 
boy  drew  it  away,  as  he  said  to  her  in  low  tones, 
"What  know  you  of  the  color  of  men's  eyes?" 
Certainly  this  sister  was  a  great  care  to  him;  he 
vaguely  wondered  what  would  become  of  her,  when 
he  went  up  to  Jerusalem,  as  he  would  soon  go,  to 
be  initiated  into  the  priesthood.  Who,  then,  would 
call  her  "Angel"?  Whose  eyes  would  she  then 
find  blue  ?  She  was  not  like  other  girls,  content  to 
keep  snugly  in  the  women's  quarters  till  old  enough 
to  walk  the  streets  with  a  discreet  veil  hiding  her 
face.  She  seemed  ever  thinking  of  the  outside 
world,  and  she  took  an  unlawful  interest  in  green 
fields  and  market-places,  and  even  in  throngs  of 
beggars  and  sinners.  ' 

"Who  is  this  blue-eyed  person?"  inquired  Joel; 
"for  we  owe  him  thanks, — and  something  better." 

"  He  is  my  slave,"  said  the  centurion,  "a  faithful 
lad,  but  a  barbarian.  One  of  our  legions  was  sack 
ing  a  town  in  Lower  Germany,  when  I  chanced 
upon  him,  then  about  three  years  old,  lying  deserted 
in  a  hut  of  earth  and  stone." 


Miriam's  Punishment  39 

"  I  noted  him  as  he  sat  at  your  feet,"  said  Anna. 
"  I  wonder  his  parents  would  desert  so  fair  a  child." 

Lucius  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders.  "No 
choice  of  theirs,  I  warrant  you,  lady!  For  his 
father  was  put  to  the  sword,  after  killing  many 
of  our  auxiliaries, — his  own  countrymen,  against 
whom  he  was  outrageously  incensed,  because  they 
had  entered  our  service  against  their  native  country, 
for  pay." 

"And  his  mother?"  asked  Anna. 

"I  forget  who  took  her  captive,"  replied  the 
Roman.  "  But  whoever  it  was,  sent  her  as  a  pres 
ent  to  our  most  glorious  emperor,  the  saintly  Tibe 
rius, — for  she  also  was  fair.  As  for  me,  I  took  this 
infant,  and  went  lugging  him  from  camp  to  camp, 
till  1  grew  fond  of  him,  and  he  of  me.  For  I  never 
married,  lady;  and  it  was  sweet  to  feel  his  tiny 
fingers  close  upon  my  great  hand,  as  if  he  would 
say,  'You  are  now  my  only  hope.'  Perhaps  he  did 
say  so,  in  his  barbarous  tongue." 

"  I  pray  you  call  him  up,"  said  Joel,  "and  though 
he  is  your  slave,  do  not  forbid  me  giving  him  a 
token  of  my  gratitude." 

"Well— well — as  you  like.  Soldier,  call  for  me 
Gothinus, — I  named  him  so,  because  he  was  of  the 
tribe  of  the  Gothini."  The  slave  quickly  appeared, 
dressed  in  dry  apparel,  and  fresh  and  rosy,  as  if  the 


4.O  Adnah 

cold  bath  had  been  much  to  his  liking.  "These 
Germans, — you  can  never  kill  them,"  said  the  cen 
turion,  giving  Gothinus  a  hearty  blow  upon  the 
back  that  would  have  sent  Reuben  reeling,  at  his 
strongest.  The  German  smiled  merrily,  and  it  was 
easily  to  be  discerned  that  Lucius  treated  him  more 
as  a  son  than  as  a  slave. 

"Slave,"  said  Joel,  kindly,  "  I  wish  to  thank  you 
for  the  recovery  of  my  son."  Gothinus  smiled, 
but  made  no  answer  except  his  bow,  for  it  was  not 
etiquette  to  speak  to  a  freeman. 

"But  thanks  are  not  enough,"  continued  Joel, 
thrusting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  "though  doubt 
less  they  are  better  than  nothing.     Since  the  value 
of   a  slave  is  thirty  shekels,  and  since  my  son  is 
worth  twice  as  much  to  me  as  a  slave,  and  since 
we  never  give  more  than  a  sixtieth  part  of  the 
value  of  a  thing  for  the  thing , — if  we  can  help  it, 
— behold,  here  is  a  shekel.     Take  it,  my  boy." 
"Ask  not  this  of  me,  also,"  said  Gothinus. 
"  How  say  you  ?    Is  it  not  enough  ?  " 
"Yes,  my  lord;  a  shekel  too  much." 
"  But  I  insist.     Come,  you  must  obey  me! " 
"I  saved  your  son,"  said  Gothinus,  "and  that  I 
did  willingly.     But  to  take  money  is  more  than  I 
can  do  for  any  man, — unless  my  master  bids  me," 
he  added,  looking  beseechingly  at  Lucius. 


Miriam's  Punishment  41 

"He  is  a  strange  barbarian,"  said  Lucius,  shaking 
his  massive  head.  "  Remember, — a  German!  " 

"If  you  will  not  take  it  from  any  man,  perhaps 
you  will  from  my  daughter.  Here,  Miriam,  offer 
the  money  to  this  very  peculiar  slave." 

Reuben  watched  his  sister,  and  was  scandalized 
to  see  that  she  showed  not  the  least  hesitation,  or 
embarrassment. 

"Yes,  just  as  if  she  were  a  boy!"  he  thought. 
"She  does  not  draw  back,  but  takes  the  shekel  in 
her  hand.  So  far  from  her  cheeks  blushing  with 
righteous  modesty,  her  eyes  sparkle,  yes,  actually 
sparkle  with  pleasure!  "  Reuben  groaned. 

"  Are  you  in  pain,  my  son  ?"  Anna  asked. 

Miriam  advanced  fearlessly  to  the  blue-eyed  slave, 
just  as  if  she  were  not  a  Jewess.  "  I  pray  you  take 
the  money,"  she  said,  "and  with  it,  our  love.  And 
to-night  your  name  shall  be  first  in  my  prayers." 

Gothinus  took  the  money  gravely. 

"Now,  my  son,"  cried  Joel,  in  high  spirits,  "it 
is  your  turn  to  say  a  word  of  thanks." 

"If  any  more  can  be  said,"  replied  Reuben, 
coldly,  "  let  it  be  imagined  that  I  have  said  it!  He 
has  the  money,  and  he  has  been  promised  our  love; 
and  my  sister  has  agreed  to  pray  for  a  Gentile." 

"A  Jew,  a  Jew!"  cried  Lucius,  laughing.  "I 
myself  think  you  have  had  your  share,  Gothinus! 


42  Adnah 

Get  below,  or  we  poor  Romans  will  receive  not  a 
glance!  " 

Reuben  thought  to  himself,  "  And  now  my  sister 
has  two  friends;  the  son  of  a  thief,  and  the  slave  of 
a  Gentile!  "  As  he  mused  over  this,  it  suddenly  oc 
curred  to  him  that  his  sister  took  delight  in  others 
because  he,  himself,  gave  her  little  attention.  He 
loved  Miriam,  though  he  did  not  think  it  consistent 
with  his  dignity  to  proclaim  the  fact.  Now  it  ap 
peared  otherwise.  As  they  went  up  the  street 
towards  their  home,  he  fell  behind  with  Miriam. 
As  they  entered  a  dark  shadow,  he  took  her  hand. 
She  was  overjoyed.  "I  know  you  are  glad,"  he 
said,  "that  your  brother  does  not  lie  out  yonder  in 
the  still  sea." 

"Never  would  I  again  have  been  happy,"  said 
Miriam  with  a  sudden  sob.  "  It  was  as  if  the  sun 
of  my  life  was  about  to  go  out." 

"Ah,  "said  Reuben,  "but  there  would  have  re 
mained  the  stars!  " 

"  I  would  never  have  seen  them,"  returned 
Miriam,  "for  a  cloud  would  have  been  be 
tween." 

"  Then,  dear  sister,  since  I  am  so  much  to  you, 
why  will  you  not  try  more  to  please  me  ?  Hold 
this  thief,  Adnah,  in  contempt  — 

"  Adnah  is  no  thief,  brother." 


Miriam's  Punishment  43 

"  But  his  father  is;  and  pray  not  for  this  heathen 
German,  this  proud  Gentile!  " 

"  Dear  brother,  what  would  not  I  do  for  you,  be 
cause  you  have  been  saved  ?  I  can  say  to  my  feet, 
'Go  thither,'  and  they  go;  or  to  my  hand,  'Do 
this,'  and  behold,  the  thing  is  done.  But  I  cannot 
say  to  my  mind,  'Think  thus,'  or  to  my  heart, 
'  Here  thou  shalt  love,  and  here  hold  in  contempt! ' 
For  the  soul  is  not  a  horse  that  one  may  turn  it  over 
to  another's  guiding  and  spurring." 

Reuben  drew  away  his  hand.     "  You  mock!  " 

"No,  brother.  For  if  I  were  not  true,  I  would 
promise  anything  to  content  you.  But  never  will  I 
promise  that  which  my  heart  whispers,  '  You  shall 
not  perform! ' ' 

"  Girl,"  said  Reuben  severely,  "you  are  a  model 
to  be  copied, — in  your  words!  but  when  it  comes 
to  peering  through  broken  planks, — but  I  say  no 
more.  I  pray  you  go  on  with  your  mother,  and 
leave  me  to  my  thoughts." 

The  next  day  Reuben  was  ill  from  his  drenching 
in  the  lake,  but,  while  he  could  not  attend  school, 
he  would  not  go  to  bed.  At  noon  Miriam  came  to 
him  and  said,  "  Reuben,  may  I  not  bake  for  you 
your  favorite  cake  ?  " 

"  Why  does  not  mother  prepare  the  meal  ?"  in 
quired  Reuben. 


44  Adnah 

"So  she  does;  but  I  would  like  to  do  this  for 
you." 

"I  shall  not  be  sick,"  returned  the  other  impa 
tiently.  "To-morrow  I  shall  be  at  school.  I  do 
not  need  any  one  to  do  things  for  me.  Let  mother 
cook  what  she  pleases.  But  I  think  it  my  duty  to 
tell  about  that  loose  plank." 

"  Reuben! " 

"  Well, — may  be  not;  we  shall  see." 

At  night  he  was  worse,  but  he  insisted  on  sitting 
with  the  others  upon  the  flat  roof.  Miriam  glanced 
shyly  into  the  neighboring  court.  There  sat  Adnah 
beside  the  fountain,  while  Iddo  and  his  wife  were 
upon  their  housetop.  Iddo  was  praying  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  in  the  manner  of  Pharisees.  Reuben 
caught  Miriam  looking  at  the  forlorn  figure  by  the 
fountain.  When  she  found  herself  watched,  she 
started  and  turned  pale.  "  It  is  my  duty  !  "  he  whis 
pered.  Suddenly  Miriam  sprang  up  and  fell  upon 
her  knees  beside  Joel. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  speaking  rapidly.  "I  have 
been  very  wicked  and  I  must  tell  you  all  about  it, 
for  it  is  breaking  my  heart." 

"  I  was  not  going  to  tell,"  spoke  up  Reuben  with 
the  irritation  that  belongs  by  right  to  the  sick. 
"  Come  and  take  your  seat." 

But  Miriam   had  gone  too  far  to   retreat.     "A 


Miriam's  Punishment  45 

plank  was  loose  in  the  gate.  I  pulled  it  away  and 
talked  to  that  boy,  Iddo's  nephew.  It  was  yester 
day,  when  no  one  saw  me.  1  knew  it  was  wrong, 
but  I  didn't  seem  to  care  though  it  was.  But 
since  then,  my  life  has  been  very  unhappy.  And  I 
carried  Adnah  things  to  eat  because  he  was  so 
hungry.  And  then  I  came  away." 

"  But  not  before  Adnah  had  hailed  her  as  an 
angel,"  spoke  up  Reuben,  who  would  not  have  told 
this,  if  he  had  not  been  pverpowered  by  surprise 
and  shame  at  hearing  of  the  provisions. 

Miriam  burst  into  tears  and  hid  her  face  upon 
Joel's  knee.  "  Well,  my  daughter,"  said  her  father, 
"it  was  a  great  wickedness,  without  doubt!  A 
fearful  thing,  indeed,  to  feed  one  who  was  hungry! 
But  it  seems  that  the  worst  part  is  that  you  did  it 
secretly." 

"  Yes,  yes,  and  I  am  very  miserable,  father." 

"What!  Have  you  not  been  miserable  long 
enough?  Kiss  me,  Miriam,  and  forget  it  all!" 
She  fell  into  his  arms,  but  Anna  looked  very  grave. 

"Adnah,  the  son  of  a  thief!"  expostulated 
Reuben. 

"  My  son  speaks  with  wisdom,"  said  Anna. 

"  And  he  called  her  '  angel,'  "  cried  Reuben. 

"  I  know  not  if  there  be  so  many  as  two  angels," 
observed  Joel,  as  he  smoothed  Miriam's  hair.  "  But 


46  Adnah 

if  there  are,  Miriam  is  certainly  one,  and  Adnah  was 
right.  If  there  is  but  one  angel,  her  name  is  Anna, 
and  Adnah  was  wrong." 

"  Joel,"  said  Anna,  "  treat  not  this  case  so  lightly. 
See  how  Reuben  is  grieved!  " 

"Thus  I  shall  settle  the  case,"  said  Joel,  rising 
and  leaning  over  the  parapet.  "  Zuph,  come  up, 
for  I  would  speak  with  you."  Then  turning  to 
Miriam, — "My  daughter,  promise  me  never  again 
to  secretly  remove  a  plank  from  that  gate,  or  hold 
converse  with  any  one  through  openings  in  walls." 

Miriam  smiled  through  her  tears.  "  How  could  1 
remove  one  of  those  planks,  father?" 

"  But  come!  a  promise!  " 

"Then  I  promise,  indeed." 

By  this  time,  white-haired  Zuph  had  joined  them. 
"Zuph, "said  his  master,  "  to-morrow  when  Iddo 
is  from  home,  draw  out  every  nail  from  that  plank, 
— which  I  have  reason  to  suppose,  by  my  son's  ex 
pression,  he  has  put  into  it;  and  leave  the  plank 
loose! " 

"  It  is  folly,"  said  Anna. 

"No,  dear  wife,  it  is  faith." 

Miriam  kissed  her  father  again. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  SEVENTH    HOUR 

THE  next  morning  Reuben  was  not  well  enough 
to  leave  his  bed.  His  cheeks  were  flushed  with 
fever.  "I  want  no  physician,"  he  persisted.  "I 
can  be  sick  enough  without  hiring  an  assistant." 
Joel's  duty  called  him  to  the  custom-house,  and  all 
morning  Anna  and  Miriam  stayed  in  the  sick  cham 
ber.  Of  course  these  two  were  uneasy,  which  irri 
tated  the  youth.  "I  shall  be  up  to-morrow,"  he 
said.  "I  wish  you  would  do  as  usual,  and  not  sit 
so  silent,  looking  at  me."  But  Anna  remained  by 
his  side.  Miriam  longed  for  her  mother's  place,  but 
her  mother  had  no  intention  of  letting  even  Miriam 
supersede  her.  The  noon  meal  came. 

Now  was  the  girl's  chance.  While  Anna  was 
superintending  the  cooking,  she  crept  to  her  broth 
er's  side,  and  timidly  felt  his  cheek.  She  shuddered 
because  his  flesh  was  so  hot.  Reuben  turned  his 
head  on  the  pillow,  and  looked  at  her.  He  smiled. 
"You  will  be  glad,"  he  said,  "  when  I  am  a  great 
priest,  and  go  with  my  course  to  Jerusalem  twice  a 
year.  You  will  say,  '  I  am  the  sister  of  Reuben, 

47 


48  Adnah 

the  high  priest,' — perhaps.  Who  knows  what  will 
happen.  Caiaphas  must  die  presently.  Who  will 
succeed  him  ?  Perhaps  his  son.  No  matter,  I  can 
wait.  But  I  must  become  a  great  friend  of  the 
procurator.  Pilate  can  do  what  he  wishes.  He 
can  make  me  high  priest,  when  I  am  old  enough. 
Will  you  not  be  proud,  then  ?" 

"So  proud,"  said  Miriam  with  a  delighted  smile, 
"that  my  feet  will  say  to  the  earth,  '  Earth,  you  are 
not  good  enough  for  me,' — and  then  they  will  be 
gin  to  tread  upon  air." 

Reuben  laughed.  "  What  a  girl  you  are!  And  I 
will  not  need  to  lay  up  riches,  since  father,  who 
was  once  a  priest,  but  has  been  made  a  nobleman, 
has  enough  to  influence  even  a  Roman  procurator. 
Aristobulus  was  high  priest  at  seventeen.  But  I 
am  in  no  hurry.  I  care  not  if  fame  marches  slowly, 
so  it  comes  my  way." 

"While  you  march  to  meet  it,"  said  Miriam, 
pleased  extremely  at  this  very  unusual  confiding  of 
hopes.  And  certainly  Reuben  would  not  have  con 
versed  with  her  so  freely,  if  he  had  not  been  ill. 

"Sister,  I  pray  you  bring  me  yonder  fifth  book  of 
Moses,  which  you  see  upon  the  table.  I  must  be 
prepared  for  my  fate." 

"  But  will  it  not  make  you  ill  to  read  ?  " 

"  111!     What  know  you  of  the  effects  of  reading  t 


The  Seventh  Hour  49 

Reading  is  not  like  a  malaria  to  catch  one  unawares. 
Do  me  this  favor." 

Do  him  a  favor  ?  Miriam  sprang  up  breathless. 
"Now,  Miriam,"  said  Reuben's  warning  voice,  "do 
not  be  careless.  Walk  slowly.  There  are  many 
things  on  the  table,  and  the  book  must  not  be  in 
jured." 

Miriam  laughed  as  she  ran  across  the  room.  "A 
favor  loses  half  its  worth  when  it  is  done  slowly," 
she  cried  gaily.  She  seized  the  roll  of  parchment, 
and  in  her  haste,  struck  it  against  a  little  jar.  "Oh! 
oh!"  she  cried. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Reuben  sharply. 

"Oh,  brother,  I  have  spilled  some  ink  on  the 
book! " 

"Bring  it  here.  I  expected  this!  Why  did  I 
ask  you  to  do  anything  for  me  ?  For  it  is  always 
thus.  Yet  I  cautioned  you,  I  said,  '  Walk  slowly.' 
You  would  not.  You  ever  think  your  way  the 
best,  and  your  girl's  wisdom  equal  to  a  man's.  Let 
me  see  the  place.  'The  Lord  thy  God  will  raise 
up  unto  thee  a  Prophet  from  the  midst  of  thee,  from 
thy  brethren,  like  unto  Me;  unto  Him  ye  shall 
hearken.'  You  have  blotted  it  all  over!  A  Prophet 
like  unto  Moses.  .  .  .  It  is  yet  to  be  fulfilled;  a 
leader;  a  ruler.  He  is  yet  to  come.  Isaiah, — Jere 
miah, — Elijah, — these  were  not  as  Moses.  So  you 


$o  Adnah 

weep  ?  I  am  not  angry,  but  I  am  just.  You  did 
wrong,  and  is  a  wrong  to  be  passed  lightly  over  ? 
Leave  me  to  my  thoughts,  girl,  you  make  my  fever 
rise." 

Miriam  fled  to  the  upper  chamber,  and  threw 
herself  upon  her  bed,  where  she  sobbed  wildly. 
But  it  was  not  long  before  she  was  again  in  the 
room.  Anna  was  at  the  coveted  place  of  honor, — 
by  Reuben's  side.  The  youth  had  not  tasted  food. 
Soon  he  was  forced  to  lay  down  the  manuscript. 
"Mother,  put  it  away,  I  pray,"  he  said  faintly. 
"Miriam  is  so  heedless,  but  you  are  sure!" 

Anna  beamed  and  Miriam  caught  her  breath. 
Later  in  the  day  Reuben  asked  to  have  his  face  and 
hands  bathed  with  the  clear  water  from  the  foun 
tain.  "Let  me!  let  me!"  cried  Miriam. 

"You  indeed!"  exclaimed  Anna,  smiling,  but  re 
lentless.  "  Am  I  not  his  mother  ?  " 

"  But  I  can  bring  the  water,"  said  the  girl  eagerly. 

"No,"  said  the  calm,  judicial  voice  of  Reuben. 
"  You  would  doubtless  spill  it  upon  the  floor."  But 
while  Anna  was  gone  with  the  leathern  bottle,  here 
was  another  opportunity.  Miriam  slipped  into  the 
seat  beside  the  bed.  "Oh,  Reuben,"  she  whis 
pered,  "I  wish  I  could  lie  there  in  your  place!" 

"Yes,"  said  Reuben  gravely.  "You  ever  wish  to 
assume  another's  duty.  Why  not  heed  your  own  ? 


The  Seventh  Hour  51 

You  have  a  place  to  fill,  and  if  you  do  as  well  as 
you  can,  the  part  you  are  given  to  act,  Herod  in 
Tiberias,  or  Tiberius  in  Rome,  could  do  no  more. 
You  are  a  foolish  girl  to  wish  to  take  my  place. 
Such  wishes, — what  do  they  accomplish  ?  Such 
wishes  are  but  words!  It  is  when  I  ask  you  to  act 
for  me  that  you  fail." 

When  Anna  came  with  the  water,  she  found  her 
son  alone.  "Where  is  Miriam  ?" 

"Who  can  tell? "said  Reuben  fretfully.  "She 
passes  from  smiles  to  tears  before  half-a-dozen 
thoughts  can  follow  after  their  captain.  She  is 
heedless  and  full  of  faults,  but  she  cares  not,  so  you 
are  blind  to  them.  A  word  sends  her  to  her  bed  to 
weep,  and  a  smile  almost  makes  her  dance  for 
joy!" 

The  next  day  a  physician  was  called.  A  week 
later  he  said,  "  It  is  useless;  the  boy  will  die.  If  all 
is  well,  he  may  last  two  days.  But  there  is  no 
power  to  save  him  longer.  He  was  delicate  from 
hard  study,  and  the  sudden  shock  of  falling  into  the 
lake  was  more  than  he  could  endure."  Joel,  who 
had  never  left  the  place  since  the  physician  was 
called,  attended  him  to  the  gate.  Then  he  sat  down 
beside  the  fountain,  and  wept  bitterly.  His  only 
boy,  the  pride  and  hope  of  his  life, — and  all  about 
him  the  flowers  sent  up  fragrance  towards  the  blue 


52  Adnah 

sky,  and  the  water  of  the  fountain  sparkled  joy 
ously. 

"My  master,"  said  a  voice  near  him;  it  was 
Zuph.  "  May  I  speak  ?  For  I  have  a  thought." 

The  haggard  father  did  not  raise  his  head. 

"  Listen,  my  master.  I  have  told  you  of  the  man 
who  turned  water  into  wine.  Now  since  He  could 
do  so  marvelous  a  thing,  may  He  not  be  able  to  do 
even  more  ?  Why  could  He  not  turn  sickness  into 
health,  or  sorrow  into  joy  ?  For  you  and  I  could  no 
more  make  water  redden  into  wine,  than  we  could 
heal  poor  Reuben! " 

The  nobleman  looked  up.  "Where  is  this 
man  ?" 

"I  know  not.  But  this  I  know;  four  of  His  fol 
lowers  have  come  to  Capernaum,  where  now  they 
live.  They  were  formerly  of  Bethsaida.  They  are 
a  pair  of  brothers.  You  know  of  Zebedee  ?  Two 
are  his  sons, — James  and  John.  They  live  in  one 
house.  Then  Andrew  and  Simon  are  in  another. 
They  have  become  partners  in  the  fishing  business. 
Andrew  and  Simon  are  not  very  well  off,  but  Zeb 
edee  has  hired  servants.  Perhaps  it  would  not  be 
greatly  below  you  to  go  thither.  At  least  you  need 
not  go  into  the  house,  but  call  them  forth." 

Joel  had  risen.  "Show  me  the  way,"  he  said 
briefly.  Zebedee's  house  was  not  far  from  the 


The  Seventh  Hour  53 

coast.  As  they  came  up,  they  found  James  in  the 
doorway,  mending  a  net.  John  sat  apart,  his  eyes 
fixed  dreamily  upon  the  distance.  Salome  stood 
beside  James,  her  more  practical  son,  making  but 
ter  by  shaking  a  bottle  of  goatskin  filled  with  milk. 

"  Peace  be  with  you,"  said  Joel.  "Are  you  not 
followers  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ?" 

James  looked  up  and  smiled.  "  We  were  His 
disciples.  We  went  with  Him  up  to  Jerusalem,  and 
then,  through  Samaria.  But  now  we  have  gone 
back  to  our  old  business." 

"If  you  were  with  Him  in  Cana,  about  ten 
months  ago,  you  saw  Him  turn  the  water  into 
wine." 

"We  saw  that;  and  many  marvels  afterwards. 
He  is  a  great  prophet,  this  Jesus.  He  is  another 
Elijah.  Perhaps  He  is  even  more." 

"What  more  could  He  be  ?  "  said  Joel. 

John  now  spoke.  "  You  know  how  it  is  written 
in  Malachi,  '  Behold,  I  will  send  My  messenger,  and 
he  shall  prepare  My  way  before  Me;  and  the  Lord 
whom  ye  seek  shall  suddenly  come  to  His  temple, 
and  He  shall  sit  as  a  refiner  of  silver,  and  purify  the 
sons  of  Levi,  and  purge  them  as  gold  and  silver.' 
Is  this  not  spoken  of  the  Christ,  who  is  to  become 
our  King,  and  raise  the  Jews  to  the  highest  among 
nations?  John  the  Baptist  has  himself  said  that  he 


54  Adnah 

was  sent  before  this  very  Jesus  to  prepare  the  way 
for  Him;  so  there  is  the  'messenger'  spoken  of  in 
the  prophets.  And  Jesus  is  'the  Lord.'  One  day  I 
was  with  John  the  Baptist,  and  looking  upon  Jesus 
as  he  walked,  He  said,  '  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God.' 
Whereupon  we  followed  Him,  Andrew  and  I. 

"Yes,  we  saw  the  water  turned  into  wine,  and 
we  believed  on  Him.  He  came  here  to  Capernaum, 
after  that,  He  and  His  mother  and  His  brethren  with 
us,  but  we  continued  here  not  many  days,  because 
the  passover  was  at  hand.  And  so  we  went  up  to 
Jerusalem,  and  Jesus  found  in  the  Temple  those  who 
sold  oxen  and  sheep  and  doves,  and  the  changers 
of  money  sitting;  and  when  He  had  made  a  scourge 
of  small  cords,  He  drove  them  all  out  of  the  Temple, 
and  the  sheep  and  the  oxen;  and  poured  out 
the  changers'  money;  and  overthrew  the  tables; 
and  said  unto  them  that  sold  doves,  '  Take  these 
things  hence;  make  not  My  Father's  house  a  house 
of  merchandise.'  Was  not  this  the  very  event  pre 
dicted  by  Malachi  ?  We  disciples  recalled  the 
words  written  so  long  ago,  '  The  zeal  of  thine  house 
hath  eaten  Me  up! ' ' 

"Tell  me,  where  is  this  worker  of  wonders!" 
cried  Joel.  "  You  stir  up  hopes  in  my  breast.  For 
my  son  is  at  the  point  of  death,  and  perhaps  Jesus 
can  make  him  well." 


The  Seventh  Hour  55 

"Jesus  is  in  Cana,"  said  James,  "  the  very  place 
where  He  attended  the  wedding  feast;  He  stops 
with  Nathanael  for  a  time,  but  we  expect  Him  to 
come  presently  to  Capernaum." 

"It  is  twenty-five  miles  away,  perhaps  a  little 
less,"  said  Joel  excitedly.  "I  can  reach  the  town 
by  the  seventh  hour,  for  it  is  yet  early." 

"Master,"  said  Zuph,  "if  you  would  talk  longer 
with  these,  I  will  saddle  your  beast  and  bring  Him 
hither  in  all  speed."  Joel  approved  the  plan,  and 
Zuph  hurried  away. 

"And  you  think  this  is  the  Christ  whom  the 
Pharisees  look  for?"  said  Joel.  "And  you  think 
He  will  become  a  mighty  king  ?  Ah,  you  do  not 
understand  the  power  of  Rome  !  I  am  a  noble 
man,  a  Sadducee.  Of  course  /  look  for  no  Christ. 
But  I  do  indeed  believe  this  is  a  prophet;  I  believe 
He  can  heal  Reuben,  if  I  can  persuade  Him  to  come 
up  hither  in  time." 

"  Have  no  fear,"  said  John,  "  no  one  ever  wishes 
Jesus  in  vain.  He  turns  from  no  one.  When  we 
journeyed  through  Samaria,  where  was  Jacob's 
well,  Jesus,  being  wearied  with  His  journey,  sat 
on  the  well,  while  we  went  away  into  the  city  to 
get  meat.  When  we  came  back,  we  marveled  to 
see  Him  talking  with  a  woman  of  Samaria,  one 
who  was  a  sinner,  and  had  five  times  been  mar- 


56  Adnah 

ried!  Yet  no  one  said,  'Why  do  you  talk  with 
her?"' 

"At  Jacob's  well!"  said  Joel.  "That  is  by 
Sychar.  Could  this  have  been  the  mother  of 
Adnah  ?  But  see  how  calm  I  am!  I  cannot  under 
stand  why  my  grief  is  gone.  But  ever  since  I 
determined  to  go  to  Jesus,  my  heart  has  sung  like  a 
bird  with  hope  of  the  spring!  " 

In  the  meantime  Reuben  was  delirious.  "Here 
is  my  genealogy,"  he  muttered,  fancying  he  had 
applied  for  a  sub-position  in  the  priesthood.  "  You 
will  find  I  am  descended  from  a  priest  of  Solomon. 
Put  not  the  black  robe  upon  me,  but  the  white 
tunic,  for  I  am  free  of  the  one-hundred-and-forty 
bodily  defects.  I  shall  be  at  the  head  of  the  San- 
hedrin,  mother.  I  shall  be  high  priest!  Then 
father  will  be  glad.  I  shall  serve  in  the  first  course. 
Have  ready  the  ox  for  a  sin-offering.  And  the  oil 
for  my  hair.  How  long  it  takes  to  become 
great! " 

An  hour  later  he  opened  his  eyes.  Consciousness 
had  returned,  but  not  so  his  strength.  "Mother," 
he  whispered,  "  I  feel  very  strange.  I  seem  to  be 
floating  in  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  as  I  did  that  night. 
What  is  it  ?  Mother,  what  did  the  physician  say  ? 
Shall  I  get  well  ?  " 

Anna  burst  into  uncontrollable  weeping.     After 


The  Seventh  Hour  57 

a  pause  he  whispered,  "And  how  long  did  he  say 
I  might  last  ?  Shall  I  die  at  once  ?  " 

"No,  no,  no  ;  not — he  said  two  days." 

"Poor  mother!"  said  Reuben.  Then  he  added, 
"  Where  is  father?  " 

"  He  has  hurried  to  Cana,  to  find  a  greater  Physi 
cian,  my  son.  Perhaps  ours  did  not  know." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  while  Anna  held  her 
boy's  hand.  Then  a  voice  broke  the  stillness. 
"  Reuben,  Reuben,  have  you  no  thought  of  me?" 

"  Hush,  Miriam!"  said  Anna,  gently. 

"You  and  father  are  always  upon  his  lips,"  said 
Miriam  in  rebellious  grief,  "but  me  he  never 
mentions! " 

"  Miriam,"  said  the  weak  voice,  "come  hither." 
His  sister  crept  to  his  side.  "Miriam,  we  were 
very  happy  when  we  were  little  ones,  is  it  not 
true  ?" 

"So  happy!  "  sobbed  Miriam. 

"When  we  played  with  laughter  in  the  court, 
beside  our  fountain,— ah,  the  cold,  cold  water,— 
how  we  plunged  our  arms  into  it!  And  we  chased 
each  other  upon  the  house-top,  from  parapet  to 
parapet.  And  the  time  Lucius,  the  centurion,  sent 
us  that  curious  dish  from  his  feast,  made  of  pea 
cocks'  brains, — how  we  laughed!  " 

"1  had  even  forgotten!  "  said  Miriam. 


58  Adnah 

"Now,  daughter,"  said  Anna,  "you  have  talked 
enough.  You  will  make  Reuben  worse." 

"A  moment  more,  dear  mother.  But,  Miriam,— 
since  we  have  grown  older,  we  have  not  been— 
just " 

"  But  it  is  always  my  fault,"  said  Miriam,  "  for  I 
am  a  very  wicked  girl." 

"There  is  one  thing  I  must  tell  you,  sister." 

"I  shall  always  remember  it,  I  know." 

"So  I  wish  you  to.  It  is  this, — and  no  doubt 
you  would  never  have  thought  it " 

"For  I  arn  not  wise,  Reuben.  But  tell  me  what 
it  is  and  I  will  do  it.  Anything,  anything!  " 

"It  is  nothing  I  want  you  to  do.  It  is  just — 
that, — I  am  very  fond  of  you!  " 

Miriam  gave  a  little  cry  that  was  broken  half  into 
by  a  sob.  Anna  said,  "You  may  kiss  him,  but 
after  that,  you  must  draw  away."  Was  Anna  just 
a  little  jealous  ?  Reuben  kissed  his  sister,  and  then 
as  he  looked  up  at  his  mother  a  faint  smile  passed 
over  his  face;  but  he  said  nothing.  Presently  he 
fell  asleep,  and  his  breathing  grew  so  halting  that 
Anna  was  alarmed  and  sought  to  waken  him. 

Reuben  could  not  be  awakened.  Some  of  the 
oldest  servants  came  in,  among  them,  Zuph.  Their 
weeping  was  audible.  Anna  did  not  try  to  still 
them.  It  no  longer  mattered.  The  hour  of  the 


The  Seventh  Hour  59 

noon  meal  was  at  hand,  but  no  one  in  the  room 
stirred.  Anna  sat  with  her  eyes  fastened  fixedly 
upon  the  white  face,  while  Miriam  sobbed  with  the 
servants.  Reuben  was  struggling  for  breath.  He 
was  still  unconscious.  As  a  servant  passed  by  the 
stone  dial  in  the  court,  her  words  were  distinctly 
heard,  as  they  drifted  through  the  open  window; 
"  It  is  the  seventh  hour." 

Even  while  she  spoke,  Reuben  opened  his  eyes, 
sighed  naturally,  and  then  rose  to  a  sitting  posture. 
Anna  who  had  constantly  held  his  hand,  gave  a 
loud  cry  of  amazement.  The  pulse  had  become 
regular,  the  hot  fever  was  gone!  "He  recovers!" 
she  cried. 

"I  am  already  well!  "  said  Reuben.  He  rose  to 
his  feet,  and  they  saw  that  he  had  spoken  true. 

Miriam  cried,  "  Father  has  seen  Jesus!  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN   DANGER 

THAT  evening  they  expected  Joel  to  return  from 
Cana,  but  they  were  disappointed.  Joy  over  the 
recovery  of  Reuben  needed  only  the  father's  pres 
ence  to  be  complete.  Early  the  next  morning  Zuph 
wished  to  start  forth  and  meet  him,  and  tell  the 
good  news.  Anna  gave  him  permission,  and  he 
set  forth  with  a  few  of  the  servants.  They  had  not 
gone  far  when  they  met  Joel  returning. 

"Your  son  lives,"  shouted  Zuph.  With  bright 
faces,  the  other  servants  echoed,  "He  lives!"  Joel 
also  was  radiant,  but  he  did  not  appear  surprised. 

"At  what  hour  did  he  begin  to  mend?"  he  in 
quired. 

"Yesterday  at  the  seventh  hour,  the  fever  left 
him." 

"That  was  the  time!  "  Joel  exclaimed.  "Now, 
indeed,  I  know  that  Jesus  is  a  great  prophet,  and  a 
mighty  worker  of  wonders,  as  well!  " 

"Then  you  saw  Him  ?"     said  Zuph. 

"  I  reached  Cana  about  noon,  dear  Zuph.     I  went 

unto  Him, — He  abides  with  one  Nathanael.     I  told 

60 


In  Danger  6l 

Him  that  Reuben  was  at  the  point  of  death,  and 
I  besought  Him  to  come  down  to  Capernaum  and 
heal  him,  for  in  some  way,  when  I  saw  His  face, 
I  could  not  doubt  His  power.  'I  know  you  can 
cure  him,'  I  said,  '  for  I  have  heard  of  the  miracle 
you  wrought  at  the  wedding  feast.' 

"  Then  He  answered,  '  Except  you  see  signs  and 
wonders,  you  will  not  believe!  '  At  that  I  began  to 
grow  alarmed.  I  felt  He  could  help  Reuben,  but 
what  if  He  refused  to  come  ?  I  plead  with  Him 
then,  for  was  not  my  dearest  interest  at  stake? 
And  I  cried,  'Sir,  come  down  ere  my  child  die! ' 

"But  He  had  not  intended  to  refuse  my  petition, 
— He  was  only  trying  me, — I  saw  that  by  the  won 
derful  look  of  kindness  and  mercy  that  shone  in  His 
eyes.  He  said,  'Go  your  way;  your  son  lives.' 
And  the  time  at  which  He  spoke  these  words  was 
the  seventh  hour.  I  believed  Him.  I  was  as  certain 
Reuben  had  recovered,  as  if  I  had  seen  him  rise 
before  me,  although  he  was  more  than  twenty  miles 
away.  I  set  forward  towards  home,  but  I  felt  no 
hurry.  I  was  too  happy  to  be  anxious  about  my 
journey,  and  the  meeting  with  Jesus  had  filled  me 
with  strange  thoughts  and  feelings.  So  I  stayed  at 
night  at  the  half-way  inn,  to  think  it  over." 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  Jesus?"  asked 
Zuph. 


62  Adnah 

"  As  I  said, — a  great  prophet,  one  who  can  over 
come  the  ordinary  course  of  nature." 

"  And  no  more  ?  "  said  the  servant. 

"This  is  enough,  surely.     I  believe  in  Him." 

"  But  do  you  think  Him  the  Messiah  ?  " 

"Zuph,  I  am  a  Sadducee,  as  you  know." 

"True,  master.  But  if  Jesus  could  raise  Reuben 
from  his  deathbed,  while  twenty  miles  away,  why 
could  not  God  raise  up  one  who  is  quite  dead, 
though  He  is  as  far  away  as  Heaven?" 

"I  perceive,  Zuph,  that  you  believe  in  the  resur 
rection." 

"To  my  mind,"  replied  the  favored  servant,  "the 
resurrection  and  Jesus  go  together.  I  think  Him  the 
Christ.  And  I  believe  He  will  presently  become 
great  and  drive  Rome  out  of  Judea,  and  take  His 
royal  seat  in  Jerusalem.  Where,  then,  will  Herod 
Antipas  and  Pontius  Pilate  be  ?  Either  in  exile,  or 
crushed  beneath  the  powerful  foot  of  the  great  and 
new  king!  " 

Joel  smiled  at  Zuph's  enthusiasm.  "  I  warn  you," 
he  said,  "not  to  express  these  views  to  Lucius,  the 
centurion." 

Anna  would  not  allow  Reuben  to  return  to 
school  for  several  days,  although  he  had  perfectly 
recovered.  When  at  last  he  was  suffered  to  go, 
Miriam  felt  very  lonesome.  She  had  spent  many 


In  Danger  63 

happy  hours  in  the  sick  room,  for  every  time  she 
could  be  of  service  her  heart  bounded  with  joy. 
And  that  time  Reuben  said,  "I  am  very  fond  of 
you! " — would  she  ever  forget  it?  Since  his  recov 
ery,  Reuben  had  appeared  rather  ashamed  of  his 
confession,  it  is  true,  and  he  had  done  nothing  to 
prove  it.  But  he  had  failed  to  find  fault  with  his 
sister,  and  was  not  this  more  than  enough  ?  She 
could  still  sit  and  watch  him,  in  dumb  devotion. 

But  now  he  was  away,  and  she  went  into  the 
court.  Suddenly  she  remembered  the  plank  which 
had  caused  her  so  much  trouble.  But  she  would 
not  look  at  it.  There  was  no  danger  of  her 
betraying  her  father's  trust.  But  after  all,  she 
would  like  to  see  if  Zuph  had  drawn  out  the  nails. 
There  could  be  no  harm  in  that.  She  crossed  the 
court  to  examine.  Yes,  there  were  the  empty  nail- 
holes.  And  had  she  moved  that  great  heavy 
weight!  Sure  enough,  here  was  the  very  spike  she 
had  pulled  upon, — Miriam  seized  the  spike.  She 
gave  it  just  a  little  pull. 

"Miriam?"  said  a  voice  on  the  other  side;  the 
voice  of  Adnah.  Miriam  shrank  back.  "Miriam!" 
the  voice  said,  entreatingly. 

Miriam  wrung  her  hands.  What  could  she  do  ? 
She  had  promised  not  to  talk  to  this  wretch.  But 
to  wound  him  was  more  than  she  could  endure. 


64  Adnah 

So  she  compromised.  She  knocked  upon  the 
plank. 

"Have  they  ordered  you  not  to  speak  to  me?" 
said  the  boy. 

Again  Miriam  knocked. 

"Then  listen,  and  you  need  say  nothing. 
Miriam,  something  dreadful  is  going  to  happen  to 
me.  I  overheard  Iddo  and  his  slave  plotting.  1 
dared  not  draw  very  close,  and  I  did  not  hear  every 
thing.  But  I  know  this  much;  1  am  to  be  taken 
from  here  and  something  is  to  be  done  to  me. 
After  I  have  disappeared,  Iddo  will  say  I  ran  away. 
But  Miriam,  it  will  not  be  true.  For  how  could  I 
escape  ?  The  gate  is  locked  always,  and  you  know 
I  could  not  scale  the  wall.  I  am  in  a  cage.  I  sup 
pose  Iddo  will  murder  me,  he  and  the  slave; 
for  Iddo  hates  me,  oh,  Miriam,  he  despises, 
loathes  me  in  his  soul;  and  why,  I  know  not.  I 
would  have  slipped  through  this  opening,  and 
begged  you  to  get  the  key  to  your  gate,  that  I 
might  flee.  But  I  heard  your  servant  nail  up  the 
plank  again.  So  there  is  no  help.  And  no  one 
would  believe  my  story  but  you.  Only  this;  when 
they  say  I  ran  away,  you  will  know  better." 

Miriam  was  in  great  perplexity.  Should  she 
break  her  promise,  and  tell  Adnah  that  the  plank 
was  loose  ?  But  how  could  she  get  the  key  to  the 


In  Danger  65 

gate  and  let  him  out,  even  if  the  plank  were  gone  ? 
It  must  be  at  night,  and  Zuph  slept  with  the  key 
under  his  pillow.  She  could  not  attempt  that, — she 
was  not  so  wicked.  And  yet,  what  if  Adnah  were 
killed  ?  But  surely  a  good  Pharisee,  such  as  Iddo, 
would  commit  no  crime. 

"  Miriam,  do  you  believe  my  words?" 

She  knocked  upon  the  wall.  At  that  instant 
Anna  called  her!  Miriam  went  to  her  mother  feel 
ing  guilty  and  miserable.  How  could  she  explain 
her  knocking  upon  the  wall  ?  She  stood  with 
downcast  eyes.  What,  now,  would  her  father 
think  ?  And  Reuben  ?  She  trembled. 

"Miriam,"  said  her  mother's  cheery  voice,  "I 
called  to  ask  you  to  fill  this  jug,  from  the  foun 
tain." 

"  You  dear,  good  mother!  "  cried  Miriam,  throw 
ing  her  arms  about  her,  "I  would  fill  a  thousand 
jugs  for  you! " 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  TWO  BROTHERS 

ADNAH  could  not  remember  his  mother,  because 
when  he  was  only  a  year  old,  his  father  had  given 
that  lady  a  bill  of  divorcement  and  had  sent  her 
away.  Back  to  Samaria,  her  native  country,  went 
this  lady,  and  presently  married  again;  and  yet 
again;  five  times,  in  all.  Whenever  Iddo  wished 
to  reproach  Adnah  most  bitterly,  he  would  refer 
to  his  mother.  Iddo  seemed  to  take  exquisite 
delight  in  tormenting  his  nephew.  This  was  be 
cause  he  hated  the  very  sight  of  the  young  man. 
Adnah  could  remember  his  father,  Samuel.  They 
had  lived  together  six  years  after  the  divorce. 
What  a  jolly  person  his  father  had  been!  full  of 
laughter  and  mad  pranks,  a  very  boy,  though 
whiskered  over  with  tough  gray  hair.  Despised  by 
his  countrymen  because  he  was  a  publican,  and  be 
cause  he  had  married  a  Samaritan,  Samuel  found 
solace  in  his  child.  When  he  left  the  receipt  of 
custom,  straight  home  to  his  little  cabin  he  would 
go,  and  "Ha,  Adnah,  what  do  you  say  to  going 
fishing,  to-night?"  Then  they  would  take  to  the 

66 


The  Two  Brothers  67 

boat,  and  push  off  from  shore.  Darkness  would 
surround  them.  What  of  that  ?  Samuel  would 
light  a  torch  and  place  it  where  the  fish  could  see 
its  beautiful  glory.  For  a  fish  dearly  loves  a  light, 
whether  sun,  or  lantern.  So  the  fish  would  set 
their  tails  wagging,  and  come  straight  into  the  net. 
And  what  then?  Perhaps  it  would  be  midnight; 
no  matter.  They  would  light  a  fire  upon  the  shore, 
and  broil  their  fish  upon  the  coals.  And  then, 
pure  happiness, — without  a  thought  of  indiges 
tion! 

Or,  Samuel  might  say,  "Shall  we  take  a  tramp 
to-night  ?  "  Adnah  was  always  ready  for  anything. 
In  the  dusk  of  evening  they  would  set  forth,  and 
perhaps  enter  the  hills  and  sit  upon  the  huge 
boulders,  or  even  climb  the  mountainside;  or  make 
an  excursion  to  Bethsaida,  and  think  it  great  fun 
because  all  the  town  would  be  asleep  and  these 
two  so  much  awake.  And  Samuel  would  go  to 
work  the  next  day  as  if  he  had  slept  all  night. 
Samuel  was  not  religious,  but  there  was  one  object 
he  worshiped;  this  was  his  brother  Iddo.  And  in 
deed,  Iddo  was  so  great  a  Pharisee,  and  so  learned 
a  Rabbi,  that  most  of  the  common  people  looked 
up  to  him.  And  to  think  that  this  great  and  pious 
man  was  his  own  brother!  Samuel  visited  him 
regularly,  and  lavished  upon  him  a  great  part  of  his 


68  Adnah 

wages,  while  Iddo  never  ceased  to  upbraid  him  for 
being  a  sinner  and  a  publican. 

"Alas,  that  this  money  is  made  by  the  extortion 
of  your  own  countrymen!"  Iddo  would  exclaim, 
pocketing,  meanwhile,  the  money.  "  How  can 
you  be  content  to  take  from  the  Jews  and  give  to 
these  vile  Romans  ?  Were  it  not  for  the  Pharisees, 
the  Jews  as  a  people  would  cease  to  exist.  Re 
nounce  the  custom;  become  a  Pharisee,  and  help  us 
oppose  Tiberius  Csesar.  What  grander  work  than 
to  fight  for  your  people  against  greed,  idolatry,  and 
oppression  ?" 

"Alas,  dear  Iddo,"  Samuel  would  return,  waving 
his  powerful  arm,  "some  men  are  not  cut  out  to  do 
great  things.  You  are;  1  am  not.  It  is  enough  that 
my  brother  is  great, — that  the  people  bow  before 
him, — that  those  from  afar  come  to  sip  at  his  foun 
tain  of  knowledge.  Of  you,  I  am  very  proud; 
with  myself,  I  am  content." 

"Think  of  the  day  of  resurrection!  "  cried  Iddo. 
"While  we  Pharisees  recline  in  Abraham's  bosom, 
where  will  be  you  publicans  and  Sadducees?" 

But  never  did  Samuel  lose  his  serene  indifference. 
Iddo  could  not  offend  him.  The  day  of  desolation 
came  at  last, — the  day  that  found  Adnah  a  happy 
child,  and  left  him  miserable.  The  Roman  soldiers 
were  in  the  room,  and  by  Adnah  stood  Samuel  and 


The  Two  Brothers  69 

Iddo.  "It  is  true  I  stole  the  money,"  said  Samuel, 
boldly.  "What  would  you  have?  So  great  a 
stream  of  coins  pouring  through  my  fingers  every 
day, — should  not  I  close  my  hand  some  time  ?  " 

"Come!"  said  the  officer  sternly.  "No  more 
words.  You  confess  the  deed.  To  Jerusalem!  " 

"Iddo,"  said  the  prisoner,  turning  to  his  brother, 
"  remember;  you  take  charge  of  my  boy;  you  will 
treat  him  as  your  own  child;  you  will  bring  him  up 
to  become  great  and  good." 

Iddo  threw  himself  upon  the  publican's  shoulder 
and  wept  and  sobbed.  "  He  shall  be  my  son!  "  he 
declared.  Never  before  had  Adnah  seen  Iddo  kiss 
his  brother.  Iddo  did  not  appear  in  the  least 
ashamed  of  his  brother,  though  a  thief.  And 
Adnah  was  taken  to  the  home  of  Iddo.  At  first 
Iddo  seemed  very  fond  of  the  boy,  and  would  often 
throw  his  arms  about  him,  and  burst  into  wild 
weeping.  But  at  the  end  of  a  few  weeks,  this 
sudden  love  cooled.  Then  Iddo  began  to  hate  his 
nephew.  Why?  Ah,  why?  What  had  happened? 

There  were  three  in  this  household;  Iddo,  his 
wife  Hodesh,  a  most  irritable  woman,  and  the 
slave,  a  man  with  a  cruel  face,  and  with  few 
words.  The  house  was  scantily  furnished,  the 
board  frugally  set  forth,  after  the  manner  of  Phari 
sees.  "  Teach  me  to  read,"  once  Adnah  implored. 


70  Adnah 

"First  I  will  teach  you  to  be  good,"  returned 
Iddo.  "You  may  begin  by  fasting,  to-day."  After 
that  Adnah  fasted  often,  but  he  grew  no  better.  In 
fact,  his  mind  became  filled  with  bitter  and  rebel 
lious  thoughts.  Often  he  did  not  confine  himself  to 
thoughts,  but  ventured  into  open  rebellion.  Then 
Hodesh  would  beat  him  severely.  He  longed  in 
the  evening  to  sit  with  the  others  upon  the  house 
top  for  very  company's  sake,  but  this  was  not  al 
lowed.  He  tried  to  make  friends  with  the  slave, 
but  to  no  avail.  He  sought  to  soften  Iddo's  wife, 
but  she  was  adamant.  Thus  cast  upon  himself, 
ever  brooding  over  a  happy  past  and  a  desolate 
present,  Adnah  grew  up,  and  was  now  six 
teen. 

But  life  is  unbearable  without  love.  To  be  loved 
is  the  priceless  blessing  of  a  few,  and  like  other 
priceless  blessings,  is  held  cheap,  compared  with 
blessings  that  may  be  bought  with  a  price.  But  to 
love,  is  the  privilege  of  all  generous  natures.  To 
whom  should  Adrian's  heart  go  out  ?  At  first,  it 
was  a  voice  that  stole  its  way  into  his  soul, — a 
childish  voice,  laughing,  singing,  on  the  other  side 
of  that  cruel  fence.  Once  he  heard  the  same  voice 
in  another  tone, — for  now  it  was  sobbing.  What 
had  happened  to  that  unseen  one?  Adnah's  heart 
thrilled  with  sympathy.  "I  grieve  with  you,"  he 


The  Two  Brothers  71 

whispered, — no  one  could  hear.  "  Have  you  been 
beaten  ?  I,  also,  am  often  beaten.  But  who  could 
injure  you, — dear,  laughing,  singing  voice!"  For 
it  was  just  a  voice  he  had  grown  to  love. 

A  week  later  some  one  called,  "Miriam!"  and 
that  clear  voice  answered,  "Here  I  am,  Reuben." 
Then, — her  name  was  Miriam.  Miriam! — a  musical 
name,  a  name  that  almost  melts  in  the  mouth  before 
it  can  be  spoken.  Miriam, — he  liked  that  name.  He 
would  have  had  her  named  nothing  else.  The  next 
day  he  heard  her  singing.  "Miriam  sings,"  he  said 
with  a  smile,  as  he  listened.  "She  is  happy."  A 
sudden  thought, — why  should  he  slink  to  his  room 
every  evening,  while  the  others  were  upon  the 
house-top?  Would  not  Miriam  be  upon  her  own 
roof  ?  And  in  the  dusk  he  crept  out  by  the  foun 
tain.  He  scarcely  dared  look  up.  For  here  was 
a  strange  thing;  he  feared  her  as  much  as  he  loved! 
When  at  last  he  raised  his  eyes,  there  were  Joel  and 
Anna  and  Reuben;  and  a  girl  sitting  with  her  back 
to  him.  And  it  was  so  dim  up  there.  How  dim 
all  the  world  had  suddenly  grown!  At  last  he  saw 
the  form  of  Miriam,  of  her  whose  voice  and  name 
had  become  the  hope  of  his  life!  At  last,  after  all 
these  days,  he  saw  her;  but  why  did  she  not  turn 
around  ?  And  why  was  the  world  growing  so 
dim  ?  Now  she  was  turning  her  face.  But  at  that 


72  Adnah 

moment  the  world  was  blotted  from  his  sight. 
Foolish  tears,  to  spoil  so  fair  a  picture! 

But  at  last  he  saw  her  face, — he  talked  with  her. 
It  was  that  day  when  the  plank  fell  down.  He 
dated  all  after  events  from  that  day,  until  the  next 
time  came  when  he  spoke  through  the  boards,  tell 
ing  her  how  his  life  was  in  danger. 

"Boy,"  said  Iddo  that  very  evening,  "you  go 
with  me,  to-night,  upon  a  journey." 

"Whither?"  Adnah  asked,  drawing  back. 

"Do  you  ask  me,  'Whither?'  What  is  that  to 
you  ?  It  is  enough  that  you  go." 

"I  shall  not  go,"  returned  Adnah.  "You  mean 
to  harm  me,  perhaps  kill  me." 

Then  Adnah  was  beaten  by  the  slave.  "Will 
you  go?"  demanded  Iddo.  This  time  it  was  quite 
dark. 

"What  will  happen  to  me?"  asked  Adnah. 

"Miserable  child  of  a  Samaritan  and  a  thief!" 
cried  Iddo.  "Do  you  think  you  can  resist  my 
power?" 

"Yes,"  said  Adnah,  "I  can  resist  you.  I  will 
not  go.  Now  beat  me  again !  " 

"Bring  the  mule  to  the  gate,"  said  Iddo  to  the 
slave.  The  slave  departed.  "Wretched  boy," 
hissed  Iddo,  "who  must  ever  be  a  blot  upon  the 
world,  what  can  you  hope  ?  There  is  nothing  for 


The  Two  Brothers  73 

you.  To  touch  you  is  to  become  defiled.  You  are 
unclean,  spotted  with  sin.  Yet  you  defy  me;  you 
ever  defy  me.  I  give  you  food  and  lodgings, — you 
return  me  harshness  and  impudence." 

"  Give  me  a  little  kindness,"  said  Adnah,  "  and  I 
will  run  to  do  your  bidding." 

"Kindness!  Is  not  food  kindness?  Is  not 
shelter  kindness?" 

"  But  what  are  blows  and  curses  ?"  said  Adnah. 
"You  would  crush  me, — make  me  a  slave.  But 
while  I  live,  there  is  one  thing  I  can  do.  I  can  tell 
you  my  thoughts.  Ah,  had  my  father  known " 

Iddo  struck  him  to  the  earth.  When  Adnah  re 
covered,  he  found  his  limbs  tied,  and  his  mouth 
stopped  by  a  bandage  so  he  could  not  cry  out. 
Iddo  said,  "True,  you  can  speak  your  thoughts; 
but  he  who  speaks  his  thoughts  indulges  in  a  luxury 
for  which  he  must  pay  a  price!  " 

"The  beast  is  ready,"  the  slave  called  from  the 
open  gate  in  a  low  voice.  "  Come,  tie  this  fellow 
upon  his  back,"  said  Iddo;  "and  leave  the  gate 
wide  open.  Then  we  will  say,  'He  ran  away. "! 
Adnah  was  lifted  in  strong  arms,  and  tied  upon  the 
mule.  They  set  forward  through  the  dark  night. 
He  was  prepared  for  the  worst,  and  his  determina 
tion  was  to  die  bravely. 

They  entered  the  hill  country  and  at  last  came  to 


74  Adnah 

wild  ravines,  where  rocks  in  fantastic  shapes 
loomed  up  in  the  darkness.  Presently  Iddo  said, 
"We  are  here."  The  mule  stopped.  Adnah  was 
dragged  from  the  beast,  and  the  ropes  taken  from 
him.  The  bandage  was  removed  from  his  mouth. 
But  Iddo  grasped  his  arm  in  an  iron  clutch.  "  Now 
shriek,"  said  Iddo.  "Now  howl!  Now  implore 
and  beg  and  pray!  Be  not  afraid.  No  one  will 
hear  you  but  the  slave  and  your  uncle.  Ask  for 
your  life ;  plead  for  your  freedom !  " 

Adnah  said  not  a  word.  Iddo  was  in  a  curious 
kind  of  frenzy,  as  if  he  were  going  mad.  His  eyes 
blazed  with  fury.  "  You  dog,  you  Samaritan,  you 
thief!  Are  you  dumb?  Speak  before  I  strike  you 
to  the  earth!  "  He  spoke  not,  and  a  blow  on  the 
head  sent  him  reeling  down.  "Speak!  Ask  my 
forgiveness,  my  mercy.  So  ?  Then  a  last  blow, — 
for  this  is  the  last  chance  I  will  have  with  you!  " 
And  he  struck  the  prostrate  form.  "Now,  slave, 
we  are  ready.  Drag  him  in." 

Adnah,  half  stunned,  and  suffering  cruelly,  as 
much  from  indignant  rage  as  from  physical  pain, 
was  clutched  by  the  arm  and  dragged  over  the 
sharp  stones.  The  rope  coiled  itself  about  his  leg 
and  trailed  after  him.  They  had  come  to  a  perpen 
dicular  cliff  that  rose  many  feet  above  the  gorge. 
But  there  was  a  small  opening  in  the  rock,  over 


The  Two  Brothers  75 

which  a  mass  of  earth  and  stones  projected.  It  was 
the  opening  of  a  cave,  so  low  that  the  slave  was 
obliged  to  go  upon  hands  and  knees,  as  he  dragged 
the  youth  after  him.  At  last  Adnah  was  left  alone 
in  intense  darkness. 

What  were  Iddo  and  the  slave  doing,  outside  the 
cave  ?  A  sudden  terrific  crash  was  heard.  An 
enormous  mass  of  earth  and  stones  had  been  dis 
lodged,  falling  to  the  ground,  and  stopping  up  the 
mouth  of  the  cave.  Suddenly  from  a  not  remote 
part  of  the  cave  sounded  the  voice  of  one  who  had 
been  awakened  by  the  thunder  of  the  avalanche: 
"Unclean!  unclean!  unclean!" 

Adnah  gave  a  wild  shriek  of  terror.  He  was  en 
tombed  with  Simon,  the  leper. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ENTOMBED   IN   THE   CAVE 

AFTER  that  agonized  shriek,  caused  by  the  reali 
zation  that  a  leper  was  with  him  in  the  cave  whose 
mouth  was  effectually  stopped  up,  Adnah  started  to 
his  feet.  But  he  sank  upon  the  ground,  overcome 
by  the  pain  from  his  wounds,  and  from  his  fear. 

Again  that  terrible  cry  arose  from  the  interior 
darkness,  "Unclean,  unclean,  unclean!"  The  ter 
ror  which  had  before  deprived  the  youth  of  strength, 
now  gave  him  energy.  He  tottered  to  his  feet,  cry 
ing,  "  Keep  away,  I  command  you!  " 

From  the  intense  gloom  came  the  leper's  voice: 
"  Who  is  this  that  would  share  the  miseries  of  my 
home  ?  Why  have  you  come  to  the  abode  of  an 
outcast  ?  Do  you  not  know  that  Simon  the  leper 
lives  here  ?  /  am  Simon  the  leper!  Depart,  depart, 
I  warn  you,  unless  you,  too,  are  a  leper." 

"Oh,  infamous  Iddo,"  cried  Adnah,  "then  this  is 
why  you  brought  me  here!  This  is  why  you 
loosed  my  feet  and  hands.  But  woe  to  you,  oh, 

Iddo,  if  we  should  ever  meet  again!  " 

76 


Entombed  in  the  Cave  77 

"  Iddo?  "  repeated  the  leper.  "  I  know  him.  If 
you  hate  him,  you  are  my  friend.  Wait,  1  will 
light  my  lamp."  After  some  delay,  the  lamp  was 
lighted,  and  by  its  feeble  light,  Adnah  could  gain 
some  idea  of  the  cave.  It  consisted  of  a  large 
cavern,  almost  square  in  shape,  the  ceiling  dome- 
shaped,  and  many  feet  above  his  head;  but  of  its 
height  he  could  not  be  sure,  since  it  sloped  up  into 
darkness;  and  when  he  looked  up,  it  was  as  if  he 
gazed  into  the  depths  of  a  fathomless  sky,  unlighted 
by  stars.  The  walls  were  rough  stone,  and  at  one 
corner  of  the  cavern  was  a  black  space,  as  of  an 
open  doorway,  not  higher  than  his  head,  and 
scarcely  two  feet  wide.  At  first  he  had  thought  it 
a  piece  of  black  cloth  hung  upon  the  wall. 

In  the  opposite  corner  was  a  mattress,  laid  upon 
a  heap  of  straw,  some  earthen  vessels  and  others  of 
iron,  while  a  gray  circle  showed  where  a  fire  some 
times  burned.  A  heap  of  wood  and  brush  was 
piled  against  the  wall,  near  which  lay  an  ax,  and 
other  implements.  The  lamp  stood  upon  the  earth- 
ern  floor.  It  consisted  of  a  wick  thrust  into  the 
neck  of  a  bottle  containing  oil.  As  the  pale  flame 
played,  monstrous  shadows  danced  upon  the  floor 
and  wall,  or  fled,  as  in  a  magic  race,  to  the  black 
ness  of  the  roof.  Adnah  hardly  knew  that  his  eyes 
had  seen  all  these  things,  for  his  mind  was  op- 


78  Adnah 

pressed  with  but  one  of  the  objects  in  the  cave, — 
the  leper. 

Simon  the  leper  sat  upon  the  ground  beside  his 
lamp,  staring  at  Adnah.  His  leprosy  was  not  in  its 
initial  stage,  but  had  already  reached  a  frightful  de 
velopment,  so  that  he  might  be  said  to  be  "  full  of 
leprosy," — the  phrase  then  in  use.  Had  he  been 
wandering  abroad,  he  would  have  been  obliged  to 
conceal  his  mouth  and  the  lower  part  of  his  face 
with  a  bandage.  But  now  he  was  at  home,  and  his 
hideous  deformity  was  unconcealed.  His  skin  lay 
in  shining  white  scales,  which  in  places  were  falling 
off,  revealing  disgusting  sores.  One  foot  was 
eaten  away,  up  to  the  ankle-bone;  an  eye  had  dis 
appeared,  for  the  disease  had  first  begun  by  a  small 
white  spot  upon  his  eyelid.  Upon  one  side  of  his 
head,  the  hair  grew  raven  black,  but  the  other  half 
had  been  invaded  by  the  disease,  and  here  the  hair 
was  perfectly  white;  the  contrast  was  terrifying. 
Adnah,  almost  as  white  from  terror  as  was  Simon 
from  his  leprosy,  shrank  to  the  farthest  wall. 
However,  the  leper  gave  but  one  look  at  the  youth. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  he  cried,  pointing  to  the 
opening  of  the  cave.  The  avalanche  had  not  only 
stopped  up  the  mouth,  but  had  rolled  a  vast  amount 
of  earth  and  stones  into  the  cavern,  so  that  the  true 
opening  could  not  be  approached. 


Entombed  in  the  Cave  79 

"  It  was  Iddo,"  said  Adnah.  "  He  has  buried  me 
alive  in  this  place, — and  with  you!"  The  leper 
was  more  terrifying  to  him  than  the  thought  of 
starvation. 

"Woe,  woe!"  moaned  Simon.  "Entombed 
alive!  This,  then,  is  the  end!  " 

Adnah  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  his  compan 
ion  in  misery.  The  frightfulness  of  his  aspect  fas 
cinated  him.  He  stared  until  his  eyes  began  to 
glitter,  and  his  breast  heaved  convulsively.  He 
hated  the  leper  with  a  mad  passion.  Why  must  he 
share  this  tomb  with  such  a  being  ?  Life  indeed 
could  not  last  long,  for  starvation  must  end  all. 
But  there  would  be  days,  and  all  that  while  his  eyes 
would  see  that  emaciated  face,  the  limbs  scaled  and 
eaten  with  sores,  the  bones  dropping  away.  Per 
haps  madness  would  seize  him  before  starvation. 
His  mind  burned  with  terrible  thoughts.  He 
glanced  at  the  ax.  A  sudden  power  sprang  along 
his  veins.  A  sudden  heat  boiled  in  his  blood.  His 
hands  clenched  with  the  rigidity  of  steel,  and  his 
young  face  became  terrible.  And  then,  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly,  as  all  dreams  come,  he  seemed 
to  hear  a  girlish  voice  singing,  singing  as  if  nature 
had  chosen  her  to  express  its  sunniest  mood,— 
singing  of  fountain-play,  of  birds  circling  in  the 
blue  heavens,  and  of  the  scent  of  wild  flowers 


80  Adnah 

which  only  God's  hand  has  trained  to  blossom. 
And  Adnah  sank  upon  the  ground  and  burst  into 
loud  sobs.  Thus  Adnah  was  saved  from  the  crime 
of  murder  by  the  remembrance  of  Miriam.  Blessed 
is  that  life,  the  memory  of  which,  coming  to  one 
inflamed  by  passion,  is  as  a  divine  voice  speaking 
to  the  tempest  raging  on  Galilee. 

"  Yes,  it  is  hard  for  you,  poor  young  man,"  said 
the  leper,  "  and  it  is  wicked  in  me  to  think  only  of 
my  own  fate.  For  you,  so  young  and  full  of  hopes 
have  a  right  to  bright  dreams.  But  what  have  I  to 
expect  ?  If  I  were  outside,  free,  even  rich,  instead 
of  the  beggar  that  I  am,  what  could  I  hope  for  ? 
Pain,  and  ever  more  pain!  But  thus  do  the  most 
abject  cling  to  life!  My  poor  boy,  these  tears  are 
for  you,  and  not  for  myself." 

Adnah  sobbed  louder  with  self-reproach. 

"Perhaps  I  can  say  more  to  comfort  you," 
Simon  added  presently.  "  Doubtless  you  think  my 
disease  contagious.  It  is  a  foolish  notion  with 
those  who  are  unlearned.  It  is  not  true.  Was  not 
Naaman,  the  leader  of  the  armies  of  Syria,  a  leper  ? 
Think  you  the  soldiers  would  have  fought  under 
him,  and  encamped  with  and  about  him,  if  he 
could  have  imparted  his  misery  ?  And  do  not  the 
priests  go  to  the  ones  suspected  of  leprosy,  and 
touch  them  ?  Yet  the  priests  are  clean.  Gehazi 


Entombed  in  the  Cave  8l 

was  a  leper,  yet  the  king  conversed  with  him.  And 
in  their  own  partitioned  room,  may  not  lepers  at 
tend  the  synagogue  ?  You  must  know  that.  There 
is  a  leprosy,  so  I  have  heard,  that  is  contagious; 
but  not  the  flaky  disease  of  the  Jews." 

"  Your  words  fill  me  with  comfort  and  despair," 
cried  Adnah.  "  For  I  feared  you.  And  more  than 
that,  I  had  wicked  thoughts  about  you.  Forgive 
me,  Simon.  How  small  a  thing  it  is  for  me  to  wit 
ness  your  suffering,  compared  to  what  you  suffer 
in  your  endurance!  " 

"  Dear  friend,  your  words  are  like  cool  water  to  a 
parched  tongue.  For  what  is  sweeter  to  an  outcast, 
hated  by  all,  and  by  all  avoided,  than  to  hear  the 
word,  'Forgive!'  Think  no  more  of  your  wicked 
thoughts.  Remember  that  lepers  are  avoided  just 
in  the  same  way  that  the  dead  are  shunned.  If  a 
Jew  touch  a  dead  body,  he  is  unclean;  and  if  he 
speak  to  a  leper  he  is  unclean;  it  is  all  one.  Not 
long  ago  I  ventured  into  Capernaum,  for  I  was 
starving.  I  cried  for  bread.  Iddo  saw  me,  and 
laid  thirty-nine  lashes  upon  my  back, — ah,  cruel! 
Yes,  that  is  the  law.  He  loves  the  law,  for  he  is  a 
Pharisee.  But  he  was  not  afraid  to  touch  me,  nay, 
to  hold  me,  to  tie  me  to  the  post! " 

"If  this  is  true,"  cried  Adnah,  "then  he  thinks 
not  only  to  starve  me  to  death,  but  to  drive  me 


82  Adnah 

wild  by  your  presence.  But  I  will  not  fear  you,  I 
will  not  injure  you." 

"  You  are  brave.  But  speak  no  more  of  Iddo. 
When  one  is  close  to  death,  he  has  no  time  to  re 
member  injuries." 

"Simon,  whither  leads  yonder  dark  and  narrow 
opening  behind  you  ?  " 

' '  I  will  show  you."  The  leper  arose,  and  holding 
the  lamp,  advanced  upon  a  crutch.  Adnah,  no 
longer  fearing,  or  hating  him,  followed  through  the 
natural  doorway.  For  a  time  they  passed  along  a 
narrow  hallway  in  the  rock  and  then  they 
entered  a  strange  place.  Just  at  their  feet  yawned 
a  chasm,  seemingly  bottomless,  and  in  width  about 
twelve  feet.  It  extended  the  width  of  the  apart 
ment.  Beyond  this  crevice,  with  its  smooth  black 
walls,  the  floor  rose  with  startling  abruptness,  at  an 
angle  of  more  than  forty-five  degrees.  It  was 
perforated  with  curious  holes,  some  very  small, 
others,  yards  in  diameter.  This  steep  floor  rose 
as  far  as  the  feeble  light  of  the  lamp  could  il 
lumine. 

"Now  I  will  show  you  something  strange,"  said 
Simon,  and  he  hobbled  with  his  lamp,  back  into  the 
hallway.  "  Now  look  up!  "  he  called. 

"I  see  a  light,"  cried  Adnah.  "It  is  far,  far 
above,  like  twilight  upon  the  peak  of  a  mountain." 


Entombed  in  the  Cave  83 

Simon  returned.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  up  there  is  the 
light  of  day." 

"  But  to  reach  that  place  ?  "  faltered  the  youth. 

"Ah!"  said  Simon.  He  shook  his  head. 
"  Hitherto  I  have  had  no  wish  to  explore.  And 
now  I  cannot.  For  this  abyss  at  our  feet  cannot  be 
crossed.  And  if  it  could,  who  could  go  up  that 
smooth,  steep  wall,  so  many,  many  feet  ?  Not 
you,  poor  youth,  for  see!  There  is  blood  upon 
your  head  where  you  have  been  beaten,  and  in  you 
is  no  strength." 

"No  matter!"  cried  Adnah.  "Let  us  return  to 
your  home,  and  there  let  us  plan.  Already  hope 
shines  through  the  darkness  of  my  despair,  like  a 
lamp  seen  in  a  window  when  one  is  on  the  wild 
plains  with  one's  father, — alas!  " 

"  Is  then  your  father  no  more  ?  " 

"  He  is  no  more,"  replied  Adnah  vaguely.  "And," 
he  added  grimly,  "my  mother  is  no  more, 
also!  I  have  had  no  one  to  love  me  but  Iddo. 
And  my  great  object  in  escaping  is  to  reward 
him! " 

When  they  were  in  the  first  cavern,  Adnah 
asked,  "  Have  you  any  food,  or  drink  ?  " 

"Yes,  thanks  to  that  trip  to  the  city  that  got  me 
a  beating.  For  some  took  pity  upon  me,  and  as  I 
left,  bleeding  and  hobbling,  they  came  and  laid 


84  Adnah 

things  along  the  road,  then  ran  back  that  I  might 
not  pollute  them.  I  made  several  trips  and  brought 
it  all  here.  There  is  meal  in  yonder  bag  to  last 
many  days;  and  in  those  bottles,  wine;  and  in  that 
great  jar,  water.  That  is  all.  Would  you  eat?" 

"No,  no!  For  who  can  tell  how  long  we  must 
remain  here  !  Let  us  save  the  food  as  we  may. 
Perhaps  some  one  will  see  the  mouth  of  the  cave 
covered  over,  and  rescue  you." 

"Not  they;  they  will  think  I  have  deserted  this 
place,  and  have  closed  it  up,  to  keep  others  from 
being  polluted.  If,  indeed,  they  come  hither, — for 
all  dread  and  avoid  the  place." 

"Consider,  now,"  said  Adnah.  "There  is  an 
abyss  to  be  crossed,  about  twelve  feet  wide,  and 
as  deep  as  the  world.  How  can  we  bridge  it  ? 
Here  are  short  sticks;  here  is  brush,  even  small 
branches  of  trees.  And  yonder  is  the  rope  with 
which  I  was  bound;  it  caught  about  my  leg,  and 
was  dragged  with  me.  It  was  wrapped  all  about 
me,  and  then  about  the  mule.  It  is  longer  than  the 
abyss  is  wide.  Do  you  see  no  hope  here  ?" 

"  Hope  not,  boy;  for  can  you  walk  upon  a  rope, 
whose  ends  are  fastened  to  nothing  ?  Hope  not; 
for  greater  will  be  your  misery!  " 

Adnah  answered  fiercely,  "  I  must  hope,  or  die!  " 
Then  he  added  thoughtfully,  "Could  not  the  sticks 


Entombed  in  the  Cave  85 

be  tied  together  in  such  a  way  as  to  form  one  long 
pole,  strong  enough  to  hold  up  your  weight?" 

"  But  I  could  never  cross  on  it,"  said  the  leper. 
"  You  see  how  helpless  I  am." 

"Well,  /  can  cross,  and,  if  I  succeed  in  getting 
out,  return  for  you." 

Simon  did  not  answer,  but  he  sighed  to  see 
Adrian  clinging  to  this  hope. 

"But  I  am  very  weary,"  said  the  young  man  pres 
ently,  after  he  had  sat  trying  in  vain  to  think.  "  Let  us 
sleep,  for  it  grows  late.  And  even  outside,  in  the 
world,  it  is  night.  When  I  wake  in  the  morning,  I 
shall  be  strong  and  well.  Then  you  shall  see  what 
1  will  do.  Fear  not,  Simon!  If  the  food  holds  out, 
—no, — that  is  impossible.  I  was  thinking  of  bur 
rowing  through  that  accumulation  in  front  of  the 
cave.  But  one  can't  dig  through  a  mountain  with 
his  fingers,  even  if  his  hope  is  bigger  than  the 
mountain.  Well,— let  us  sleep." 


CHAPTER  IX 

ONE  WAY   OF  ESCAPE 

WHEN  Adnah  awoke,  a  bright  fire  burned  upon  the 
ground.  The  wild  and  terrible  form  of  the  leper 
hovered  over  it,  while  goblin-shaped  shadows  that 
seemed  akin  to  him,  fled  from  the  circle  of  fire,  then 
danced  back  again  as  the  flame  sank.  It  was  as  if 
an  evil  dream  had  pictured  itself  upon  the  black 
sheet  of  darkness.  But  this  picture  did  not  fade 
away.  Adnah  started  up. 

"Outside,  it  is  morning,"  said  Simon,  "for  I 
awoke.  And  I  am  baking  us  a  cake  apiece." 

"  Use  not  the  stouter  and  longer  sticks,"  said  the 
other. 

"Wherefore  not?  What  would  you,  with 
them  ?  " 

"To  make  that  long  pole  that  may  bridge  the 
abyss,"  said  Adnah  rising. 

"  Alas!  "  said  Simon,  but  he  added  no  more.  He 
had  no  hope  of  ever  escaping.  Adnah  stared  to 
wards  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  where  tons  of  rubbish 
blotted  out  the  morning  light.  "Is  there  anything 

to  dig  with  ?"  he  asked. 

86 


One  Way  of  Escape  87 

Simon  answered  patiently,  "There  is  the  ax. 
That  is  all.  Think  of  it  no  more.  Here  is  a  cake. 
You  are  already  unclean,  since  you  have  spoken 
to  me,  so  it  will  be  no  worse  for  you  to  eat  with 
me.  And  there  is  no  water  for  your  purifica 
tion." 

Adnah  laughed  scornfully.  "What  is  it  to  me, 
if  I  be  clean  or  polluted  ?  What  am  I  that  I  should 
cleanse  myself  after  converse  with  a  leper.  I  am  no 
Pharisee, — I  am  nothing!  In  the  world,  there  is 
nothing  for  me.  In  thoughts  alone,  there  are  a  few 
sunbeams.  Some  fancies  come, — they  are  very 
fair.  But  of  realities,  there  is  only  one  thing, — 
this;  to  escape  from  the  cave,  and  find  Iddo,  and 
thank  him  for  his  love!  After  that,— nothing! " 

"Say  not  so,"  cried  Simon,  as  they  ate  together. 
"The  words  that  fall  from  your  lips,  belong  to  me. 
There  is  indeed  no  hope  for  me.  But  you,  my 
friend,  why!  you  are  young,  and  so  full  of  life. 
Alas!  for  there  is  no  escape.  .  .  .  But  if  you 
should  escape,  why  were  not  all  hope  before  you  ? 
Who  are  you  ?  What  great  crime  have  you 
done  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Adnah.     I  have  done  no  crime." 

"Then  do  you  despair  as  an  amusement  ?  For 
there  are  only  two  things  that  can  make  a  true  man 
miserable;  sin  and  ill-health." 


88  Adnah 

"Or  parents,"  said  Adnah  bitterly.  "You  for 
get  that  the  deeds  of  the  parents  are  inherited 
by  the  children, — if  they  are  evil  deeds.  If 
good  deeds,  the  world  steps  in  and  claims  a 
legacy." 

Simon  looked  curiously  at  the  young  man  and 
did  not  pursue  the  subject.  After  the  meal,  Adnah 
began  his  work  of  forming  a  long  pole  out  of  the 
short  sticks.  He  would  put  the  end  of  one  against 
the  middle  of  another,  then  wrap  his  rope  about 
each  as  tightly  as  he  could  draw  the  knot.  He  sat 
upon  the  ground  with  his  back  to  the  flickering  fire. 
Simon  had  withdrawn  to  his  mattress  upon  the 
straw.  Presently  he  spoke. 

"  1  see  you  have  been  very  unhappy,  Adnah.  As 
for  me,  my  share  of  happiness  has  been  as  great  as 
my  misery.  In  Bethany  is  my  home.  There  lives 
a  young  man, — well,  he  is  about  thirty,  now, — and 
his  two  sisters.  These  three  are  my  children. 
Would  you  make  me  happy,  Adnah  ?  " 

"  Surely,  if  I  could!" 

"  Then  let  me  tell  you  of  them.  For  to  speak  of 
one's  children  is  to  be  young  again." 

"I  listen  gladly,  Simon." 

"  Their  mother  died  when  the  younger  girl  was 
but  two.  So  I  reared  them  up  till  the  boy  was 
nearing  twenty.  So  gentle  he  was,  so  kind,  so 


One  Way  of  Escape  89 

meek, — never  was  there  another  such  born  into  the 
world!  Adnah,  he  would  not  avenge  an  insult! 
Sometimes  when  he  was  spitefully  used, — for  you 
know  it  is  the  good  who  are  treated  so,  and  if  you 
have  ever  an  easy  time,  be  sure  you  are  a  sinner! — 
then  I  would  say  to  him,  '  Lazarus,  remember.  An 
eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth! ' ' 

"Ah,  yes!"  cried  Adnah.  "  What  is  that  ?  Say 
that  again.  Is  that  written  in  the  law  ?  " 

"To  be  sure.     Know  you  not  the  law  ?" 

"  I  know  only  about  children  being  visited  by  the 
sins  of  their  ancestors.  But  this  new  one  is  prime! 
'An  eye  for  an  eye,'  yes,  I  shall  remember  that!  I 
will  remind  Iddo  of  it  when  we  meet! " 

"As  1  said,"  resumed  Simon,  "when  I  quoted 
this  precept  to  Lazarus, — that  is  my  son's  name, — 
he  would  say,  'Father,' — I  would  you  could  have 
heard  him  say,  'Father!'  You  would  have  thought 
the  southern  breeze  had  found  a  voice!  'That  law 
is  not  for  me,'  he  would  say." 

"  Was  he,  then,  timid  ?  "  asked  Adnah. 

"No, — but  so  kind,  he  could  not  hate  one  who 
injured  him!  Even  so  were  his  sisters,  Martha  and 
Mary.  Martha  took  the  management  of  the  house 
hold,  as  soon  as  she  was  large  enough.  We  were 
not  rich, — we  had  no  servants,  except  contentment 
and  love;  they  waited  upon  us." 


90  Adnah 

Adnah  looked  up  from  his  work.  "  I  should 
have  been  very  badly  served,"  he  said,  "if  they 
alone  had  attended  my  wants." 

"Because  you  had  not  love,"  remarked  Simon. 
"First  get  love,  and  you  will  not  have  to  hire  con 
tentment.  Well, — and  Lazarus,  when  he  was  about 
twenty,  began  to  fancy  that  he  wanted  very  much 
something  which  I  had  not  been  able  to  get  him,— 
that  is,  a  wife.  She  was  a  lovely  maiden,  and  as 
gentle  as  a  doe,  and  he  had  not  the  courage  to  tell 
her  of  his  love.  But  I  said  to  myself,  '  Let  us  wait. 
It  is  waiting  that  gives  courage.  And  when  he 
speaks,  there  is  no  maiden's  parents  in  Judea  who 
can  refuse  his  suit! ' 

"It  was  about  that  time,  Adnah.  one  morning,— 
I  remember  the  sun  shone  very  brightly  and  as  it 
looked  through  my  window,  it  formed  a  broad 
sheet  of  light  that  stretched  like  a  bridge  from 
window  to  wall,  while  in  the  light  played  a  million 
tiny  creatures  that  had  been  born  with  the  warmth 
and  color.  That  morning,  Adnah, — I  felt  a  strange 
sensation  on  my  eyelid.  I  examined  the  place,  and 
saw  a  small,  round,  white  spot.  And  after  eating 
breakfast  with  my  little  fold,  1  told  them  I  must  go 
upon  a  journey.  And  I  kissed  them  all, — they 
wondered  at  my  tenderness,  no  doubt!  And  I  set 
forth  upon  my  journey.  I  went  to  the  wilderness 


One  Way  of  Escape  91 

of  Judea,  there  to  wait  and  see  what  would  happen. 
What  happened,  you  see." 

Adnah  shuddered. 

"  So  I  sent  them  a  letter,  and,  not  telling  any  one 
whither  I  was  bound,  I  traveled  through  Samaria, 
and  came  to  Galilee,  a  country  which  the  Judeans 
hold  in  light  esteem.  They  know  not  whither  I  am 
gone, — I  hope  they  think  me  dead." 

"And  since  then,  you  have  not  seen  them  ?" 

"Yes,  Adnah,  once, — more  than  a  year  ago.  I 
had  both  feet  then,  and  could  travel  without  so 
much  pain.  I  journeyed  by  night,  when  Jews  stay 
at  home.  Little  by  little  I  crept  over  hills  and  plains, 
towards  Judea.  Sometimes  I  met  bands  of  robbers. 
But  when  I  cried,  '  Unclean! '  they  would  vanish  as 
mists  before  the  sun.  When  one  is  a  leper,  he 
fears  no  one  but  himself." 

"And  Iddo,"  added  Adnah,  thoughtfully. 

"I  waited  a  long,  long  day,  in  sight  of  beloved 
Bethany,"  continued  Simon.  "  When  it  grew  dark, 
I  crept  towards  my  old  home.  I  stole  forward  in 
dark  shadows,  and  the  night  was  dark.  The  dogs 
fled  from  me;  no  man  was  abroad.  There  was  a 
light  in  the  room.  And  Adnah,  there,  where  I 
could  plainly  see  them  through  the  wide  window, — 
sat — there  were  — 

"Were  all  three  there  ?  "  asked  Adnah. 


92  Adnah 

"I  looked  for  a  fourth,"  resumed  Simon,  pres 
ently.  "I  sought  her  whom  I  had  left  a  maiden,— 
the  one  Lazarus  loved.  She  was  not  with  them. 
They  were  talking  about  a  new  prophet  who  had 
just  arisen,  and  who.  clad  in  camel's  hair,  girded 
about  by  a  girdle  of  leather,  was  preaching  repent 
ance  and  baptism,  and  the  coming  of  the  Christ. 
Lazarus  had  just  been  baptized  by  this  prophet  in 
the  river  Jordan.  The  prophet's  name  was  John; 
he  was  called  the  Baptist.  Strange  were  the  words 
spoken  by  this  Baptist,  which  my  children  repeated. 
Listen  to  this,  '  The  law  was  given  by  Moses,  but 
Jesus  Christ  will  give  grace  and  truth.'  John  said 
that! 

"Then,  as  I  stood  there  drinking  in  the  tones  of 
their  voices  as  a  wanderer  in  the  desert  delights  in 
a  new-found  spring,  the  subject  changed.  And 
Mary  said  to  her  brother,  '  Have  you  never  yet 
regretted  ? '  Lazarus  answered,  '  Sister,  my  place 
is  here.'  Then  Mary  said,  'I  know  not  how  much 
it  will  grieve  you,  but  soon  you  must  know.  My 
brother,  she  is  in  Tiberias;  and  she  is  married.' 
There  was  a  brief  silence.  Then  Lazarus  said,  '  It 
is  well.  Peace  be  with  her.  But  we  three,  who 
have  been  brought  close  together  by  a  sorrow  so 
strange  and  so  sad, — it  is  for  us  to  live  together, 
and  in  each  other  find  comfort.'  Mary  kissed  him 


One  Way  of  Escape  93 

and  said,  'Till  death  parts  us.  But  now  tell  once 
more  that  wonderful  story  of  the  baptism  of  Jesus, 
and  how  a  voice  spoke  from  the  sky.'  And  Martha 
said,  '  But  first,  I  will  close  the  window,  for  the  air 
grows  misty  with  dew.'  Martha  was  always  so 
thoughtful,— little  did  she  know  she  was  shutting 
out  a  father's  tender  gaze!  And  I  heard  and  saw 
them  no  more." 

"  Then  they  did  not  speak  of  you  ?  " 

"1  did  not  hear  my  name  called.  But  did  not 
every  tone  speak  of  me  ?  Do  not  their  lives  speak 
of  me?  Ah,  Adnah,  think  not  I  am  forgotten!  " 

Adnah  rose.  "Now  my  bridge  is  ready!"  he 
announced.  "First  I  shall  test  it."  He  leaned  it 
on  edge  against  the  wall,  and  standing  under,  seized 
the  improvised  pole,  and  threw  his  weight  upon  it. 
At  first  it  shook,  then  began  to  bend  down  like  a 
bow.  Then  there  was  a  crackling  of  the  wood; 
one  stick  broke  in  two;  at  another  place  the  rope 
slipped  and  unwound.  The  "bridge  "gave  way, 
and  Adnah  fell  to  the  floor.  He  rose  greatly  disap 
pointed.  But  he  said,  "There  is  one  comfort  how 
ever;  I  am  not  at  the  bottom  of  that  abyss!  No,  it 
cannot  be  crossed  in  this  fashion.  But  it  may  be, — 
may  I  light  the  lamp  and  explore,  Simon  ?" 

"As  you  wish,"  said  the  leper,  remaining  mo 
tionless.  "  But  be  sure  not  to  slip  over  the  edge!  " 


94  Adnah 

The  very  thought  caused  Adnah  a  shiver.  But  he 
lit  the  lamp,  and  passing  through  the  hallway, 
again  stood  on  the  verge  of  the  crevice.  He  held 
up  the  lamp,  hoping  to  find  a  jutting  rock  upon  the 
opposite  side,  over  which  he  could  throw  a  slip 
knot.  He  was  disappointed.  The  surface  of  the 
floor  was  perfectly  smooth,  till  it  began  that  strange 
slant  upwards  towards  the  opening  that  admitted 
the  daylight.  But  the  chasm  must  be  crossed.  In 
its  depths  was  death;  but,  on  this  side  was  death, 
also.  On  the  opposite  side  was  at  least  a  faint 
hope.  How  to  cross  this  space  of  twelve  feet  ? 
There  was  only  one  way, — no  use  to  revolt  from 
the  thought,  or  seek  to  deceive  oneself;  it  must  be 
leaped  over.  And  it  must  be  a  running  leap.  The 
thing  could  be  done, — he  could  jump  farther  than 
that.  The  main  point  was,  in  running  up  to  make 
the  jump,  to  stop  on  this  side  of  the  chasm;  a  very 
important  point,  indeed!  and  one  not  easy.  But, 
if  he  failed, — if  he  slipped, — if  he  did  not  get  a 
sufficient  impetus, — well, — not  to  jump  meant 
death,  as  well. 

Adnah  returned  to  the  living-chamber.  He 
measured  a  line  upon  the  floor  with  the  end  of  a 
blackened  stick,  and  set  the  lamp  where  it  would 
discover  this  line.  Then  he  drew  back,  took  a  fair  start, 
stopped  just  before  reaching  the  line,  and  jumped. 


One  Way  of  Escape  95 

"  What  is  that  for  ?  "  inquired  Simon. 

"1  am  practicing,"  said  Adnah.  "How  far  do 
you  think  1  jumped,  then  ?" 

"Seven  or  eight  feet,"  replied  Simon,  measuring 
the  distance  with  a  critical  eye. 

"  Watch  again,"  said  Adnah. 


CHAPTER  X 

MIRIAM'S  BIRTHDAY-GIFT 

IT  was  several  days  since  Miriam  had  seen  Adnah 
in  the  adjacent  court,  when  Reuben  came  home  from 
school  with  a  triumphant  smile,  holding  aloft  a 
parchment.  "  At  last!  "  he  cried. 

Miriam's  heart  sank,  and  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes. 
"  Reuben,— it  is  not  a  dismissal  ?" 

"Yes,  Miriam,  the  Rabbi  says  in  this  that  lam 
now  qualified  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem  and  begin  my 
novitiate  in  the  Temple." 

"Oh,  my  brother!  "  and  Miriam  sank  upon  the 
bench  beside  the  fountain  and  wept. 

"Well!  "  exclaimed  Reuben,  stopping  to  stare  at 
her.  "  Well!  And  I  thought  to  make  you  glad  and 
proud!  Only  think!  I  said  to  myself,  '  I  will  tell  the 
news  first  to  Miriam.'  What  follows?  Tears! 
Gaspings!  I  shall  never  understand  you,  Miriam. 
God  wills  otherwise." 

"It  is  not  that  I  fail  to  be  proud,  Reuben.  Ah,  I 
am  proud  enough.  But  can  pride  make  one  happy  ? 
Perhaps  pride  and  tears  belong  together.  For  your 

sake  I  am  glad;  but  for  my  own  sake  I  weep.     For 

96 


Miriam's  Birthday-Gift  97 

you  will  be  gone  from  us  for  years,  and  when  we 
live  together  once  more,  I  shall  be  a  child  no  longer." 

"Truly,"  said  Reuben,  not  regretfully.  "But 
you  will  be  something  much  better, — a  woman; 
and  discreet.  Besides,  you  will  see  me  three  times 
every  year  when  you  come  up  to  the  feasts.  And 
perhaps  I  shall  sometimes  visit  home, — who 
knows  ?" 

"  But  to  see  you  every  day,  and  watch  your  life 
as  it  is  lived  beside  my  own, — this  is  what  I  long 
for.  Other  people  will  enter  your  life, — and  their 
words  will  dwell  in  your  mind,  their  faces  linger  in 
your  memory, — people  all  unknown  to  me, — but  I 
shall  hate  them  all,  for  they  have  come  between  us, 
and  stolen  my  brother  from  me!  " 

"  These  are  wicked  words,"  said  Reuben,  "that 
you  will  hate  my  friends!  How  say  you  thus  ?" 

"  Because  I  am  a  foolish  girl,  Reuben.  And  first 
you  came  and  told  me  your  good  news  ?  See  how 
1  have  turned  your  joy  to  sorrow !  I  wish  it  were  to 
be  done  over  again.  Then  I  would  give  you  smile 
for  smile.  And  I  would  say,  '  It  is  my  brother  who 
is  about  to  become  great!'  But  I  was  so  unpre 
pared,  and  greatness  is  so  sad  a  thing,  since  it  lifts 
one  from  the  level  where  we  common  people  walk 
and  love  and  die.  Now,  Reuben,  I  pray  you  go 
back,  and  come  to  me  again,  and  say,  '  Here  is  my 


98  Adnah 

leave  to  enter  the  Temple-service.  For  five  years  I 
am  to  leave  you.'  Then  see  how  bravely  I  shall 
act,  and  what  I  shall  say!  " 

Reuben  frowned  and  then  smiled  in  spite  of  him 
self.  "You  strange,  inconsistent  girl!"  he  cried. 
"What!  Are  we  to  act  a  play  like  the  Romans  and 
Greeks  ?  Is  this  a  theatre  ?  Is  life  a  play  ?  " 

"You  smile!"  cried  Miriam;  "that  is  the  door 
through  which  a  request  is  granted.  Come,  Reu 
ben,  let  us  be  children  for  this  once.  Remember 
that  from  this  day,  your  childhood  is  past.  Grant 
my  request.  I  would  have  you  remember  how  glad 
I  was  to  hear  of  your  success." 

Reuben  hesitated.  Then  he  remembered  that  he 
had  ever  been  too  averse  to  humoring  this  child. 
With  an  expression  half  ashamed  he  left  the  court, 
then  entered  waving  his  parchment  and  crying, 
"Here  is  my  leave  to  enter  the  Temple-service, 
Miriam.  For  five  years,  dear  sister,  I  am  to  leave 
you!  "  And  Reuben  entered  so  thoroughly  into  his 
part  that  his  eyes  sparkled  and  his  breast  heaved 
with  exultation. 

"Oh,  Reuben!  "cried Miriam,  "lam  very  gla— 
Then  suddenly  her  voice  failed  her,  and  she  cried 
harder  than  before. 

"What  is  that?"  cried  Anna,  who  had  over 
heard  the  loud  announcement.  "  You  have  passed  ? 


Miriam's  Birthday-Gift  99 

And  you  have  not  first  come  to  your  mother  to  tell 
the  proud  news  ?" 

"  I  did  first  tell  Miriam,"  said  Reuben,  looking  at 
his  sister  with  extreme  dissatisfaction.  "  But  she 
takes  it  so  very  ill,  I  think  she  would  rather  I  had 
failed!" 

"Heed  her  not,  Reuben,  she  is  but  a  girl,  and 
foolish.  It  is  a  mother's  heart  that  reflects  back,  as 
from  a  mirror,  the  happiness  of  her  child." 

That  night  when  Joel  heard  the  news  he  said, 
"  We  will  all  go  up  to  Jerusalem,  and  see  you  safely 
placed,  my  lad.  A  vacation  of  several  weeks  will 
do  us  all  good,  and  Miriam  would  no  doubt  like  to 
see  the  city."  Miriam  looked  at  her  father  in  speech 
less  gratitude. 

A  few  evenings  later,  Joel  had  scarcely  taken  his 
seat  upon  the  house-top  with  his  family,  when 
Zuph  announced  a  visitor.  "  Bring  him  up,"  said 
the  master.  It  was  Iddo,  who  never  before  had 
polluted  himself  by  entering  the  house  of  this  Sad- 
ducee. 

"  It  is  my  neighbor!  "  cried  Joel  heartily.  "Peace 
be  with  you!  I  pray  you,  seat  yourself." 

"Not  so,"  said  Iddo.  "I  come  not  in  friendly 
concourse,  but  upon  an  affair  of  business.  You 
know  I  am  a  Pharisee,  and  hold  to  the  traditions." 

"Yes,    truly,  but   I   aver,  O   Iddo,   that   yonder 


loo  Adnah 

corner  hath  not  been  sat  upon  by  any  one  since  last 
the  roof  was  washed;  so  sit  you  down;  it  is  not 
polluted." 

Iddo  waved  his  arm.  "  I  am  weary,  Joel,  but  I 
sit  not  down  with  you.  And  well  may  I  be  weary. 
I  did  pray  three  hours  this  morning  in  the  market 
place,  and  as  long  this  afternoon,  standing  all  the 
while,  till  husky  grew  my  throat.  And  I  must  re 
pair  to  my  house-top  and  pray  three  hours  more, 
before  night  comes.  I  have  not  taken  a  bite  to-day. 
I  fasted  yesterday.  Twice  was  I  touched  in  the 
street,  once  by  a  Gentile,  once  by  a  common  per 
son,  so  twice  have  I  baptized  myself.  I  went  to 
the  synagogue  and  had  my  slave  sound  my  trumpet 
and  then  I  gave  alms  to  the  miserable  beggars.  I 
attended  a  council  of  Rabbis,  where  I  argued  with 
much  heat, — yes,  I  am  very  weary." 

"I  should  think  so!"  cried  Joel.  "It  makes  me 
weary  even  to  hear  of  it.  And  I  suppose  at  this 
same  council  you  plotted  against  Pilate  and  King 
Herod  and  all  Rome,  and  how  you  could  raise 
the  Jews  to  the  power  they  enjoyed  under 
David?" 

"Seek  not  to  learn  our  secrets,"  said  Iddo  se 
verely. 

"  Not  I.  But,  see,  Iddo,  there  is  a  man  who  some 
think  is  the  Christ,  at  Cana.  Why  not  plot  with 


Miriam's  Birthday-Gift  101 

Him  ?  He  can  do  wonders, — He  saved  Reuben 
from  death;  why  not  the  Jews  from  Rome?" 

"  You  speak  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ?  An  impostor 
—a  magician, — nothing  more.  Why,  His  father  was 
a  carpenter!  There  is  no  mystery  about  Him; 
every  one  knows  where  He  lived, — they  can  show 
you  the  house, — but  I  would  speak  on  a  matter 
more  important.  My  nephew  has  run  away." 

"Ah! "said  Joel.  Miriam  turned  cold.  She  re 
membered  Adnah's  words;  indeed,  she  had  often 
recalled  them,  but  she  had  not  spoken  of  his  fears. 

"Yes,  an  ungrateful  boy,  a  wicked  boy.  We 
found  the  gate  wide  open.  I  hear  you  go  up  to 
Jerusalem." 

"We  do;  in  two  days." 

"Should  you  meet  Adnah  upon  the  way,  or  in 
the  city,  pray  him  to  return,"  said  Iddo.  "  Remind 
him  of  my  love  and  care, — how  I  gave  him  food 
and  shelter,  and  the  warmest  love  of  this  heart. 
And  tell  him  that  every  day  I  pray  an  hour-and-a- 
half  that  his  wickedness  may  be  cast  out  of  him. 
But  alas!  An  evil  spirit  resides  in  his  breast.  And 
just  think!  I  intended  to  rear  him  up,  a  great 
Rabbi,  a  learned  man.  But  his  tastes  ran  contrari 
wise." 

"I  shall  remember  what  you  tell  me,"  said  Joel, 
and  the  Pharisee  departed.  Joel  looked  after  him 


102  Adnah 

thoughtfully.  "Now,  he  will  go  home  and  bap 
tize  himself  anew,"  he  mused,  "and  then  we  will 
harken  to  the  roaring  of  his  prayers  till  bedtime. 
I  would  I  had  his  baptizing  in  my  hands!  1  would 
so  hold  him  under  the  stream  that  he  would  have 
enough  of  purifications  for  a  time! " 

"It  is  his  religion,"  said  Anna. 

"True  enough;  and  making  friends  with  Rome 
is  mine.  That  reminds  me, — Lucius  very  kindly 
has  detailed  some  soldiers  to  escort  us  to  the  city. 
And  you  ladies  are  to  ride  in  a  Roman  cart." 

"No,  no!"  cried  Anna.  "Shall  I  forget  my 
blood  ?  A  lady  rides  upon  a  mule,  not  otherwise." 

"As  you  wish.  For  me,  I  would  as  soon  go  in  a 
Roman  chariot.  These  foolish  revolts  of  the  Phari 
sees  simply  plunge  the  Jews  deeper  into  subjection. 
For  me,  I  stick  to  Rome,  as  to  my  life.  There  are 
some  who  would  rather  sleep  in  a  patriotic  grave, 
than  live  upon  a  foreign  soil;  but  among  them  is 
not  Joel!" 

The  next  day  came  Lucius,  the  centurion,  with  his 
soldiers.  The  centurion  made  the  family  a  farewell 
visit,  and  then  entered  into  particulars  relative  to 
business.  Anna  was  very  busy  in  the  women's 
quarters,  preparing  for  the  journey.  Miriam  wan 
dered  into  the  court,  feeling  delightfully  thrilled 
over  the  prospect  of  new  experiences.  She  was 


Miriam's  Birthday-Gift  103 

surprised  to  find  some  one  in  the  court.  It  was 
Gothinus,  the  blue-eyed  slave  of  the  centurion. 

"I  did  not  once  think  of  your  being  here!"  said 
Miriam,  advancing  with  a  smile. 

"  My  master  left  me  to  await  orders." 

"And  do  you  go  up  with  us  to  Jerusalem  ?  " 

"  Alas,  no,  fair  lady." 

"But  I  am  not  a  lady, — only  a  girl  who  was 
fifteen  this  morning.  See  what  a  pretty  birthday- 
gift  the  sun  and  sky  have  given  me!  " 

"  I  would  I  could  give  you  something!  "  said  the 
German  slave. 

"And  so  you  can.  I  have  just  thought!  Oh, 
Gothinus, — what  a  very  strange  name!  Do  you 
like  it?" 

"I  never  did  till  I  heard  it  from  your  lips." 

"  That  is  strange,  Gothinus.  But  I  know  exactly 
what  you  mean.  There  are  things  I  have  been  so 
used  to  all  my  life,  I  scarce  give  them  a  thought,— 
it  may  be  a  flower,  or  a  star,  or  a  name.  And  sud 
denly  I  will  realize  that  the  familiar  thing  has  a 
beauty,  and  I  will  wonder!  Perhaps  everything  is 
beautiful,  only  we  have  not  thought  of  it,  or  seen 
its  beauty  in  the  right  light.  So  with  your  name,— 
it  is  a  pretty  name,  and  it  goes  so  well  with  your 
blue  eyes  and  yellow  hair.  Do  all  Germans  look 
like  vou  ?" 


104  Adnah 

"How  can  I  tell,  lady?  I  was  taken  from  my 
country  when  a  baby.  But  tell  me  what  gift  I  can 
give  you." 

"  I  will.     Can  you  keep  a  secret  ?  " 

"I  pledge  my  soul." 

"  I  know  you  so  well, — you  saved  my  brother, — 
and  I  have  thought  much  of  you ' 

"  Have  you,  indeed,  lady  ?  That  was  kind. 
And  did  you  pray  for  me,  a  Gentile  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  not  once  only." 

"  What  did  you  pray  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  prayed  for  you  that  you  might  be  happy, 
Gothinus.  And  again  I  prayed  that  you  might  al 
ways  be  my  friend." 

"That  was  the  same  prayer!"  cried  the  slave. 
"What  beautiful  prayers  you  have,  lady!  And  I 
would  have  you  pray  once  again." 

"What  then  ?" 

"  That  I  may  become  free." 

"  Is  not  Lucius  kind  to  you  ?" 

"  He  is  as  a  father.  But  if  he  should  die, — ah, 
well!  Tell  me  the  secret." 

"  On  the  other  side  of  that  wall  lives  a  Pharisee, 
Iddo;  and  with  him  was  his  nephew,  Adnah,  a 
youth  of  about  your  age;  a  Jew.  My  family  for 
bade  our  speaking  together.  But  one  day  he  called 
to  me  through  the  gate,  and  told  me  this;  that 


Miriam's  Birthday-Gift  105 

Iddo  meant  to  carry  him  away  somewhere  and 
injure,  perhaps  kill  him.  Then  Iddo  would  say  he 
ran  away.  Now,  I  thought  Adnah  was  alarmed  by 
his  idle  fears.  For  is  not  Iddo  a  great  Rabbi  ?  I 
said  nothing.  I  did  not  believe.  But  last  night 
Iddo  came,  and  said,  'Adnah  has  run  away! '  Well, 
I  have  not  seen  Adnah  in  his  court  for  days.  So  I 
remember  Adnah's  fears.  But  I  tell  no  one.  Why  ? 
Because  they  would  not  believe  Adnah's  story 
against  great  Iddo.  And  Reuben  would  say  Adnah 
ran  away,  and  made  up  his  story  to  me,  to  make 
me  think  otherwise.  And  all  would  be  displeased 
because  I  listened  through  the  gate.  And  certainly 
it  was  wrong.  For  1  am  not  a  good  girl,  and  I  am 
always  doing  deeds  that  give  trouble  and  mix  up 
things  dreadfully!  So  this  is  my  secret.  And  hear 
what  gift  you  are  to  give  me, — namely,  a  promise." 

"  I  give  it  you." 

"  But  hear  it  first.  If  it  is  ever  in  your  power  to 
aid  Adnah, — if  he  is  alive, — you  will  do  so.  If  you 
can  trace  his  fate,  you  will  do  all  you  can.  I  have 
thought  he  may  be  chained  somewhere  to  a  tree,  in 
the  wilds  of  Arbela;  or  lying  half  dead  on  the 
plains;  or  lost  in  some  cave." 

"  In  my  leisure  moments,  I  will  search  for  him," 
said  Gothinus,  "  and  alive  or  dead,  I  shall  find  him, 
unless  he  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea." 


106  Adnah 

As  these  two  stood  conversing,  Reuben,  who  was 
in  the  house,  seized  his  father's  arm,  and  drew  him 
to  the  window.  "Look!"  he  said,  pointing  at 
Miriam  and  Gothinus. 

"  I  see,"  said  Joel.     "  But  it  is  only  a  slave." 

"  But,  father,  Miriam  never  remembers  such  dis 
tinctions.  A  slave,  though  a  Gentile,  is  to  her  as  a 
human  being!  When  we  get  to  Jerusalem,  keep 
her  fast  in  the  house.  What  will  she  not  do,  if 
suffered  to  so  much  as  sniff  the  air  through  a  win 
dow  ?  And  what  will  become  of  her  when  she 
returns  hither,  and  I  remain  at  the  capital  of 
Judea?" 

"And  what  would  have  become  of  her,  and  of 
the  Jewish  nation,  and  of  the  universe,  if  you  had 
not  been  born  ?  "  returned  the  Sadducee. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  MAN  OF  THE   ABYSS 

"SEEK  not  to  dissuade  me,  Simon.  It  must  be 
done  now, — to-day, — if  it  is  day."  Thus  spoke 
Adnah,  in  the  awful  gloom  of  the  cave. 

"  Be  not  so  rash,  young  man,"  said  the  leper. 
"  There  is  food  yet  for  days." 

"That  is  true.  But  if  I  do  not  make  this  leap 
while  I  have  strength  and  food,  then  it  will  be  too 
late.  For  when  I  am  across  the  abyss " 

"  Ah!"  said  Simon.     "  Yes, — if  you  get  across!" 

"  And  why  should  I  not?  How  often  have  you 
seen  me  leap  a  farther  distance,  here  before  you  ? 
Is  the  abyss  wider  because  it  is  deep  ? "  But 
Adnah's  words  were  bolder  than  his  heart.  Many 
times  before  Simon,  the  leper,  had  begged  him  not 
to  make  the  attempt.  This  was  his  last  appeal. 
He  relapsed  into  gloomy  silence.  For  days  Adnah 
had  practiced  the  skill  of  making  a  running  jump. 
It  was  easy  enough,  when  failure  meant  only  a 
laugh  and  a  new  attempt.  But  he  could  not  forget 
that  though  he  sometimes  made,  in  succession, 

leaps  which  would  more  than  clear  the  frightful 

107 


io8  Adnah 

crevice  between  him  and  life,  yet  there  were  other 
times  when  most  unexpectedly  he  would  jump 
short  of  the  goal,  or  fail  to  stop  at  the  right  place. 
It  was  this  uncertainty  that  haunted  him.  Often  he 
carried  the  lamp  through  the  narrow  hallway,  and 
stood  at  the  edge  of  the  chasm,  looking  across  at 
that  slanting  floor  that  rose  towards  the  daylight. 
If  he  left  the  lamp  in  the  other  room,  he  sometimes 
caught  sight  of  that  far  away,  dim  glimmer.  It  was 
as  if  the  light  said,  "  Up  here  is  Heaven;  but  death 
lies  between." 

After  this  conversation  with  the  leper,  Adnah 
crept  to  the  edge  of  the  dividing  gap,  without  a 
light.  He  always  advanced  to  this  place  with  an 
oppressive  sense  of  awe  and  mystery.  Straining 
his  eyes,  he  caught  sight  of  the  mellow  glow  that 
told  him  it  was  day.  Day  at  last!  for  he  had  made 
this  trip  many  times  in  the  past  few  hours.  Day  at 
last!  the  day  which  was  to  determine  his  fate.  For 
he  could  no  longer  endure  the  suspense.  The  terror 
of  uncertainty  was  shaking  his  nerves,  and  unfitting 
him  for  the  attempt.  Vague  ideas,  as  well  as  real 
dangers,  were  beginning  to  haunt  him,  and  he  was 
more  afraid  of  these  ideas  than  of  realities.  The 
phantasm  which  took  strongest  hold  of  his  imagina 
tion  was  the  Man  of  the  Abyss. 

Whence  came  this  strange  thought  ?    When  did 


The  Man  of  the  Abyss  109 

the  idea  begin  to  shape  itself  in  his  inner  mind  ? 
He  knew  not.  But  as  he  stood  upon  the  edge  of 
the  chasm,  gradually  there  was  outlined  before  his 
morbid  fancy,  a  Something,  a  Personality,  down  in 
that  bottomless  black  space.  What  was  in  this 
crevice,  which  seemed  to  divide  two  worlds  ? 
Nothing.  Yet  this  Nothing  assumed  proportions,  it 
became  a  fantastic  being,  a  living  thing  with  long 
arms  reaching  up, — for  what?  To  drag  down  into 
its  solitudes  the  one  who  would  dare  to  leap  across 
its  prison-house. 

This  Man  of  the  Abyss  was  a  prisoner.  He  could 
never  hope  to  come  forth  into  the  light  of  day. 
For  ages  he  had  dwelt  in  that  sepulchral  darkness, 
alone,  alone,  and  his  heart  thirsted  for  company, 
even  if  it  be  but  a  cold  white  corpse,  dashed  against 
the  walls  of  stone.  Listen,  and  you  can  hear  a 
murmur  down  in  those  unknown  depths!  Can 
stone  and  earth  murmur  ?  Perhaps  a  stream,  lost  in 
the  earth,  lies  there,  its  black  waves,  cold  as  ice, 
washing  lifeless  shores.  Perhaps  it  is  the  breath  of 
the  Man  of  the  Abyss,  asleep,  but  ready  to  start  up, 
and  spread  out  his  long  sinewy  arms.  Adnah  re 
turned  to  the  room. 

"It  is  day,"  he  said.  The  leper  did  not  reply. 
Adnah  lifted  from  the  floor  a  long  pole  which  he 
had  made  of  sticks,  in  the  manner  already  de- 


lio  Adnah 

scribed.  He  knew  it  could  not  uphold  his  weight, 
but  it  was  strong  for  his  purpose.  "Simon,"  he 
said,  "  when  I  am  across,  we  know  not  how  long  I 
may  wander  before  I  escape.  Will  you  not  cook 
me  cakes,  that  I  may  go  prepared  ?" 

The  leper  rose,  and  began  to  prepare  the  cakes. 
Adnah  poured  some  of  the  water  from  the  jar  into 
a  goatskin  bottle.  Into  another  bottle  he  poured  oil 
for  a  second  lamp,  and  he  filled  the  lamp,  but  it  was 
not  yet  time  to  light  it.  While  these  preparations 
were  going  forward,  an  oppressive  silence  reigned 
between  them.  Adnah  was  very  white,  and  his 
mouth  was  set  in  hard  lines.  Simon  looked  more 
terrible  than  ever,  for  his  face  was  convulsed  with 
sorrow. 

While  the  bread  was  baking,  Adnah  began  his 
old  exercise  of  jumping.  He  put  forth  all  his 
strength,  and  presently  sank  panting  upon  the 
ground.  "  I  must  rest,"  he  said,  "  nor  jump  again 
till  the  great  leap.  But  have  no  fear.  I  will  save 
you,  Simon.  We  shall  escape.  Is  not  my  revenge 
strong?  It  will  bear  me  up.  Ah,  Iddo,  Iddo, — see 
what  I  have  for  him!"  He  held  up  a  long  sharp 
knife.  "  You  will  spare  me  this,  Simon.  Let  your 
blessings  rest  upon  it!  The  first  stroke  shall  be  at 
his  heart, — that  blow  for  me.  The  second  shall  cut 
off  his  head, — that  shall  be  your  blow.  Those 


The  Man  of  the  Abyss  1 1 1 

cruel  desolate  years,  when  I  was  hated  and  beaten, 
—those  days  of  fasting  and  starving,  while  he  upon 
the  roof-top  prayed  so  loud  and  long!  There  was 
nothing  for  me  to  love,  there  were  none  who  took 
a  thought  of  me,  except  as  of  a  weed  which  has  no 
right  in  the  marble  pavement.  Already  I  feel  my 
hand  about  his  throat.  Already  I  see  him  with  his 
cruel  face  and  harsh,  pleading,  lying  at  my  feet.  An 
eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  and  for  misery 
and  shame,  a  life,  yes,  Simon,  a  life!  How  easy  it 
would  have  been  for  him  in  those  days, — a  kind 
word,  a  loving  touch,  a  look  to  encourage.  But 
no,  it  was  always  my  father,  always  my  mother,  al 
ways  my  disgrace!  Morning  and  night,  his  taunts 
rang  in  my  ears.  Why  did  he  hate  me  so  ?  What 
had  1  done  ?  I  cannot  understand  why  he  hated  me 
so!  He  kissed  my  father  when  he  was  arrested. 
He  wept,  yes,  Iddo  wept  like  a  child  that  day.  But 
after  that,  all  his  tenderness  dried  up.  Cursed  is 
the  man  who  has  no  more  tears  to  shed.  Cursed  is 
Iddo!  Let  him  die  like  a  dog!" 

"Should  you  escape,"  said  Simon  earnestly,  "be 
ware  of  Iddo!  He  is  a  man;  and  you,  a  stripling.'' 

"Speak  not  of  that, — I  am  rested.  I  am  ready." 
Adnah  rose  hurriedly,  and  put  the  cakes  in  a  bag. 
He  tied  the  bag  and  the  two  bottles  to  the  end  of 
the  pole.  "Go  before  with  the  light,"  he  said. 


1 1 2  Adnah 

The  leper  took  up  the  lamp  and  hobbled  through 
the  hallway,  followed  by  the  young  man  with  his 
burden.  He  placed  the  lamp  upon  a  stone  that  had 
been  rolled  there  to  serve  as  a  stand.  The  light 
streamed  duskily  across  the  abyss,  and  faintly  re 
vealed  the  farther  floor.  Adnah  thrust  his  pole  for 
ward  carefully,  and  succeeded  in  getting  the  other 
end  with  its  burden  of  food,  upon  the  farther  side. 
"There  it  will  wait  for  me,"  he  said,  placing  his 
end  upon  the  edge.  "If  it  were  only  strong 
enough  to  hold  me  up!  But  no  matter.  You  your 
self  have  seen  how  far  I  can  jump.  It  will  be  done 
in  a  moment." 

"Let  us  return  a  moment,"  said  Simon.  They 
went  back  to  the  large  apartment.  "  Here  I  will 
bid  you  good-bye,"  said  he.  "It  is  so  dark  you 
cannot  see  me.  Forget  that  I  am  a  leper.  You 
have  been  kind  to  me,  and  I  have  grown  to  love 
you.  Soon  I  shall  be  alone.  If  you  ever  escape, 
bear  my  love  to  Lazarus,  and  Martha,  and  Mary, 
and  tell  them  why  I  never  came  back,  and  how  I 
always  thought  of  them,  and  how  the  thought  of 
them  became  the  one  pleasure  of  my  life." 

"I  shall  tell  them,  Simon.  But  fear  not, — I  shall 
return  for  you.  Will  you  come  and  see  me  make 
the  leap?" 

"  No,  dear  friend,  I  will  abide  here." 


The  Man  of  the  Abyss  113 

"lam  glad,"  said  Adnah;  "we  do  so  ill  when 
our  friends  expect  much  of  us!  So  remain;  but 
pray  for  me.  Good-bye,  Simon.  There  is  a  girl 
named  Miriam, — but  lepers  deal  not  with  the  liv 
ing,  it  is  true.  As  for  my  father, — he  was  crucified 
by  Pilate,  because  he  was  a  thief.  As  for  my 
mother,  I  have  no  message  for  her.  Good-bye. 
And  presently  we  will  say  how  great  a  matter  we 
made  of  a  small  leap!" 

Simon  did  not  answer.  Adnah  rose,  and  went  to 
the  edge,  where  the  lamp  burned.  He  looked 
down  into  that  murmuring  depth,  and  seemed  to 
hear  the  monster  stir,  and  stretch  his  arms  up 
wards.  He  went  back  to  the  mouth  of  the  hallway, 
to  make  his  run  up  to  the  edge.  The  feat  had 
never  before  seemed  so  dangerous,  so  hopeless. 
What  if  the  Man  of  the  Abyss  should  reach  up  and 
drag  him  down  into  the  chasm  ?  What  if  the  gulf 
sucked  him  down  between  its  walls  as  a  feather  in 
a  maelstrom?  Idle  fancies!  Vain  fears!  He  set 
his  teeth  hard,  he  put  his  foot  forwards,  he  gave  his 
body  a  quick  impetus  and  ran  swiftly,  with  held 
breath,  through  the  darkened  hallway,  out  into  the 
wider  chamber.  He  saw  the  flash  of  the  lamp,  and 
it  seemed  to  possess  a  dazzling  brilliancy.  In  the 
same  moment  he  was  conscious  of  the  appalling 
depth  and  width  of  the  abyss.  His  swift  motion 


1 14  Adnah 

caused  the  cold  unnatural  air  to  stream  through  his 
long  hair  as  if  he  had  entered  a  gale.  His  feet  left 
the  earth  with  a  mighty  spring,  and  as  he  soared 
above  the  chasm,  he  was  terrified  by  the  awful  con 
sciousness  that  he  had  jumped  too  soon,  that  he  had 
lacked  several  feet  of  the  line  which  he  had  marked 
as  his  starting-point.  How  many  thoughts  rushed 
upon  him  in  that  instant!  But  more  terrible  than 
all  was  the  fancy  that  the  Man  of  the  Abyss  had 
awakened,  that  he  was  reaching  up,  that  he  was 
shrieking  with  victory,  with  mad  exultation, 
that  his  slimy,  dripping  fingers  were  clutching 
at  his  limbs,  drawing  him  down,  down.  He 
fell.  How  long  he  lived  in  those  few  seconds! 
He  reached  out  his  arms  wildly.  His  feet  had 
struck  upon  the  farther  edge  of  the  chasm,  then 
had  slipped  away.  His  body  had  fallen  upon  the 
floor,  and  it  also  was  slipping  back.  His  hands 
fought  with  the  smooth  stone  floor,  and  found 
nothing  to  which  they  could  cling.  So  near  suc 
cess!  He  cried  for  help,  as  if  that  were  possible. 
He  delayed  his  fate,  he  fought  inch  by  inch  for  his 
life.  But  the  floor,  as  we  have  said,  sloped  down 
towards  the  crevice, — sloped  with  fatal  abrupt 
ness. 

A  voice  answered  his,  not  now  the  voice  of  that 
monstrous  Man  of  the  Abyss,  but  the  wild  accents 


The  Man  of  the  Abyss  1 1 5 

of  Simon  the  leper.  "On  your  right!"  it  cried. 
"Reach  out  upon  your  right! " 

Adnah  slowly  extended  his  arm  in  that  direction, 
slipping  almost  imperceptibly  all  the  while — 
slipping  more  and  more  toward  death.  Then  his 
elbow  encountered  something,  other  than  the 
smoothness,  as  of  glass,  which  had  filled  him  with 
despair.  It  was  a  resisting  substance.  He  trusted 
his  weight  upon  it.  It  yielded  somewhat,  but  held. 
It  was  enough.  Slowly,  carefully,  he  drew  himself 
up,  putting  as  little  burden  as  possible  upon  that 
saving  object.  Now  his  knees  were  over  the  edge. 
Now  he  was  saved! 

It  was  the  end  of  the  pole,  with  its  goatskin 
bottles,  which  had  offered  him  something  to  which 
he  could  cling.  Simon  had  thrown  all  his  weight 
upon  the  other  end,  thus  holding  it  across  the 
chasm.  In  this  manner  the  rudely  fastened 
"bridge,"  incapable  of  sustaining  a  heavy  weight 
in  any  one  part  of  it,  had  saved  Adnah's  life,  be 
cause  his  weight  had  been  thrown  upon  it  in  the 
direction  of  its  length. 

For  a  while  Adnah  and  Simon  stood  locking 
at  each  other  across  the  abyss.  They  were  con 
quered  by  overwhelming  emotion,  and  nothing 
was  said,  except  with  their  eyes.  These  were 
as  points  of  fire,  leaping  towards  each  other 


ii6  Adnah 

through  the  distance  and  the  gloom  and  causing  each 
heart  to  burst  into  flame  with  love  and  grati 
tude. 


CHAPTER  XII 

• 

A  GLIMPSE   OF  THE  WORLD 

ADNAH  was  the  first  to  speak.     "Safe!  "  he  cried. 

"A  wonderful  leap!"  exclaimed  Simon. 

"I  said  I  would  do  it!"  Adnah  shouted,  in  his 
excitement. 

"No  other  would  have  made  the  attempt!  "  the 
leper  declared  with  tears  of  pride. 

"It  was  a  little  thing!"  faltered  Adnah.  Then 
he  sank  upon  the  ground  and  burst  into  tears. 
What  a  curious  ending  for  an  heroic  adventure! 
He  soon  recovered,  however,  and  said  in  a  broken 
voice,  "What  a  silly  child!"  Simon  did  not  an 
swer, — he  was  doing  likewise.  Adnah  stood  up. 
"Now,  dear  friend,  take  hope.  This  is  the  first 
jump  toward  success.  Tie  my  lamp  to  your  end 
of  this  pole,  that  I  may  draw  it  across." 

Simon  shook  away  his  tears,  and  did  as  he  was 
bidden.  Adnah  drew  the  pole  with  its  burden, 
which  had  been  lighted  from  Simon's  lamp,  across 
the  abyss.  The  light  from  the  second  lamp 
gleamed  strangely  as  it  hung  suspended  over  that 

unfathomable    chasm.     Presently    it  was    landed. 

117 


1 1 8  Adnah 

Adnah  untied  the  rope  which  held  the  "bridge" 
together.  He  wound  it  about  his  waist,  and  placed 
the  sticks  where  he  might  find  them  again  in  case 
of  need.  The  bread  and  water  hung  from  his  girdle. 
His  feet  were  bare.  He  fell  upon  his  hands  and 
knees,  not  daring  to  trust  the  slippery  floor,  and 
pushing  the  lamp  before  him,  began  the  ascent.  In 
this  position  the  goatskin  bottles  dragged  upon  the 
ground.  For  awhile  he  and  the  leper  continued  to 
shout  good-bye  to  each  other,  but  at  last  the  voices 
came  like  faint  echoes  through  the  cave,  then 
ceased  altogether. 

For  some  distance  the  floor  too  preserved  its 
glassy  smoothness,  calling  forth  every  effort  to 
maintain  one's  place.  But  when  the  cavities  were 
reached,  the  ground  grew  rough,  while  it  started 
upward  dizzily.  The  surface  was  now  perforated 
with  cavities,  of  unknown  depth,  but  doubtless 
leading  down  to  the  horrible  mystery  of  the  abyss. 
Adnah  soon  found  them  all  about  him.  The  lamp 
revealed  their  ugly  gaping  mouths,  small  and  large, 
round  and  irregular.  Sometimes  a  hole  of  many 
yards  in  width  opened  its  mouth  directly  in  his 
path;  then  he  must  circle  round  it  upon  that  dizzy 
slant.  At  other  times  the  holes  were  like  wells, 
only  a  few  feet  in  width,  but  so  numerous,  the  eye 
could  not  see  a  place  where  they  did  not  threaten. 


A  Glimpse  of  the  World  119 

Then  it  was  necessary  to  proceed  between  them, 
sometimes  upon  a  neck  of  rock  so  narrow,  the  bottle 
swung  from  the  rope  over  chill  space.  Well  for  him 
that  the  ground  was  grated  and  ridged!  but  its 
roughness  was  not  always  sufficient  to  prevent  him 
from  losing  his  hold. 

Pausing  to  look  back,  he  saw  the  leper's  lamp 
like  a  tiny  spark  in  the  engulfing  darkness.  He 
shouted  a  word  of  encouragement,  but  his  voice 
was  sucked  down  into  the  depths.  But  though  his 
voice  had  risen  cheerily,  he  was  very  weary.  Now 
he  lay  panting  upon  a  little  ridge,  wondering  how 
long  he  had  been  upon  the  way,  and  how  much 
farther  he  must  go.  He  looked  up,  but  his  lamp 
prevented  him  from  seeing  any  glow  of  daylight; 
still,  so  far  from  the  goal! 

And  now  the  grated  peculiarity  of  the  surface 
was  disappearing.  It  rose  in  ridges,  like  waves  of 
a  raging  sea,  which  had  been  dashed  high  and 
turned  into  stone.  The  space  between  ridge  and 
ridge  became  smooth  and  slippery.  Sometimes  the 
bottles  swung  between  his  feet,  and  prevented  him 
from  making  his  position  sure.  As  he  was  obliged 
to  hold  the  lamp  with  one  hand,  his  danger  was  in 
creased.  But  ever  up  and  up,  slowly,  painfully  he 
crept,  ever  nearer  to  freedom  and  revenge.  And 
every  difficulty  he  encountered  increased  his  hatred 


1 2O  Adnah 

of  Iddo  and  his  resolution  to  require  from  hkn  the 
uttermost. 

In  one  of  the  most  difficult  places,  while  he  clung 
with  his  feet,  elbows,  and  the  disengaged  hand,  the 
bag  containing  the  bread  swung  around  and  struck 
one  bare  foot  from  under  him.  Taken  unawares, 
he  struggled  to  regain  his  place.  He  slipped  and 
began  to  slide  downward  with  sickening  rapidity. 
Straight  towards  the  cavities  which  had  nearly  all 
been  left  behind  him,  he  glided.  His  hand  seized 
upon  the  edge  of  an  opening.  He  circled  round  it 
to  its  base,  then  hung  upon  a  narrow  strip  of  rock 
between  two  abysses.  His  lamp  dropped  from  his 
hand,  and  fell.  Clinging  there,  he  watched  it  dis 
appear  in  the  darkness.  It  whirled  down  into  the 
open  throat, — it  vanished, — he  listened,  but  not 
even  an  echo  was  to  be  heard.  And  now,  alone  in 
the  darkness,  he  seemed  suddenly  to  find  weird 
company.  The  Man  of  the  Abyss  was  seeking  him 
once  more. 

Cold  with  terror,  Adnah  crept  from  the  narrow 
strip  of  rock,  and  began  the  ascent.  He  must  be 
more  sure,  he  must  go  more  slowly.  Was  not  the 
Man  of  the  Abyss  darting  from  cavity  to  cavity, 
waiting  for  a  misstep,  holding  up  his  black  arms  ? 
Now  he  could  see  that  faint  halo  of  the  day,  to 
wards  which  his  way  was  directed.  He  left  once 


A  Glimpse  of  the  World  121 

more  the  cavities  behind  him,  he  found  himself  on 
the  smooth  waves  of  stone.  He  gained  a  resting- 
place,  where  a  boulder  had  been  poised  upon  the 
hillside.  Here  he  must  rest,  for  his  strength  was 
gone.  He  crept  upon  the  other  side  of  the  refuge, 
and  throwing  himself  at  full  length  against  the 
shelter,  soon  fell  asleep. 

He  woke  with  a  chill  dread  of  the  darkness.  He 
looked  up,  but  the  light  was  not  visible.  It  was 
no  longer  day.  He  must  wait  for  that  signal  else 
how  could  he  direct  his  path  ?  It  was  difficult  to 
sleep  again.  Often  he  started  up,  only  to  find  that 
the  time  had  not  yet  come.  He  was  rested,  he  was 
eager  for  the  battle  against  nature,  and  this  waiting 
became  very  hard  to  bear.  Still  the  light  of  the 
leper's  lamp,  like  a  dim  spark,  shone  upward  with 
a  friendly  gleam. 

Day  came.  Adnah  drew  forth  a  cake  and  ate, 
for  hunger  was  with  him  in  the  solitude.  He  drank 
sparingly  of  his  water,  then  left  his  desolate  bed 
chamber,  and  proceeded  up  the  acclivity.  Steadily 
nearer  he  drew,  and  steadily  brighter  and  more 
defined  became  the  daylight.  The  vast  extent 
of  the  cave  contracted.  The  walls  rapidly  ap 
proached  each  other,  the  ceiling  descended  within 
a  few  yards  of  the  floor.  Now  the  light  shone 
all  about  him.  The  yards  between  ceiling,  floor 


122  Adnah 

and  walls,  became  feet.  He  had  reached  the 
neck  of  the  extensive  cave.  He  pushed  his  way,  as 
through  a  small  door,  into  a  chamber  cut  in  the 
rock.  The  glare  almost  blinded  him.  Outside  that 
opening,  was  the  world. 

He  heard  a  whirring  sound  all  about  him. 
Winged  creatures  fluttered  above  his  head,  then 
shot  out  into  the  daylight.  They  were  pigeons. 
Eager  to  be  free  of  the  cave,  Adnah  did  not  pause 
to  drink  in  the  fresh  air.  He  rose  to  his  feet,  and 
ran  across  the  room.  He  reached  the  outer  door 
way  and  looked  out. 

The  wild  cliffs  of  Arbela,  which  rose  hundreds  of 
feet  above  the  wild  gorge  that  directs  its  sinuous 
way  towards  the  two  Horns  of  Hattin,  were  noted 
for 'their  caves.  Far  above  the  valley,  inaccessible 
from  below,  the  mouths  of  these  caverns  looked 
forth,  while  above  them  rose  the  sheer  rock,  cutting 
off  escape  from  above.  They  had  their  entrances 
somewhere  far  back  from  the  visible  mouths,  but 
most  of  these  had  been  closed  up  and  forgotten. 
In  the  time  of  Herod  the  Great,  these  caves  were 
inhabited  by  robbers  and  their  families.  They  had 
only  been  driven  out  of  their  airy  retreats  by  means 
of  iron  cages,  let  down  from  the  summits  of  the 
precipices, — cages  filled  with  terrible  soldiers. 
Armed  with  iron  hooks,  these  soldiers  had  dragged 


A  Glimpse  of  the  World  123 

forth  the  miserable  fugitives,  casting  them  below, 
to  certain  destruction.  In  some  caves,  bonfires  had 
been  built  at  their  entrances,  smothering  the  in 
habitants.  It  was  in  one  of  these  caves  that  Adnah 
found  himself. 

Far  below,  lay  the  narrow  green  valley.  Far 
above  rose  the  beetling  precipice.  On  a  level  with 
the  opening, — nothing  but  a  patch  of  blue  sky. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN   MID-AIR 

AFTER  that  first  long  despairing  gaze,  Adnah 
crept  back  from  the  opening  of  the  cave,  and  threw 
himself  upon  the  stone  floor  by  one  of  the  walls. 
That  vision  of  the  outside  world  had  filled  him  with 
bitterness  and  futile  rage.  To  have  come  thus  far, 
and  through  so  many  dangers,  only  to  find  his  hope 
a  mockery!  The  sight  of  the  sun,  and  green  trees, 
and  a  dancing  rivulet  among  the  hills,  gave  him 
the  impulse  to  hide  from  these  beautiful  things,— 
from  all  cheering  objects.  He  closed  his  eyes,  as  if 
even  the  light  were  hateful  to  him.  But  when  his 
eyes  were  shut,  he  feared  that  black  space  beyond 
the  room,  which  slanted  downward  towards  the 
abyss.  He  could  never  return  to  the  leper.  Here 
he  must  die.  The  very  thought  of  slipping  down 
between  those  horrible  pitfalls  without  his  lamp, 
caused  the  image  of  the  Man  of  the  Abyss  to  peer 
through  the  doorway.  If  he  could  have  closed  up 
that  door!  Still  lying  motionless,  he  looked  about 
him,  muttering,  "Ah,  Iddo,  Iddo!" 

The  room  was  not  large,  but  in  the  opposite  wall 
124 


In  Mid-Air  125 

a  hollow  place  had  been  eaten  out  by  the  teeth  of 
time.  The  floor  was  strewn  with  twigs  and  leaves 
which  the  birds  had  brought  here  to  use  in  building. 
Adnah  now  observed  that  a  white  pigeon  had  re 
mained  upon  her  nest,  her  feathers  ruffled  up  about 
her  neck,  her  eyes  alternately  looking  at  the  in 
truder,  and  the  opening.  She  would  have  dearly 
loved  to  soar  out  into  the  sunbath  of  freedom,  but 
she  had  her  duty  at  home,  as  duty  is  understood  by 
birds,  and  she  was  resolved  to  stay  with  her  two 
eggs  till  they  were  eggs  no  longer.  There  was  a 
purple  ring  about  her  neck.  "I  would  I  had  your 
wings,  Purple  Necklace,"  said  Adnah. 

As  he  continued  to  lie  motionless,  the  other 
pigeons  one  by  one  returned.  Besides  Purple 
Necklace  there  were  four;  one  her  mate,  gaudy  in 
his  bronze  plumage,  a  very  plump  and  overbearing 
bird;  then  a  pair  of  dove-colored  pigeons,  the  male 
plainly  afraid  of  the  bronze  cock,  edging  away 
from  him  continually,  till  driven  to  the  opening, 
when  he  would  fly  away  a  short  distance,  then  re 
turn  to  be  beaten  off  again.  His  mate  in  the  mean 
time  unconcernedly  went  about  her  household 
affairs,  which  consisted  at  present  in  feeding  a 
gawky,  scantily-clothed  pair  of  children.  Adnah 
had  not  observed  these  young  ones  before,  and  he 
was  displeased  both  by  their  ungainly  motions,  and 


126  Adnah 

by  the  greedy  cries  with  which  they  divided  their 
worm.  The  last  pigeon  was  snow-white,  and 
while  she  felt  at  home  with  the  others,  she  was 
plainly  unhappy.  She  stood  upon  the  ledge  that 
formed  the  bottom  of  the  window,  looking  out 
into  the  sunny  world,  and  ever  looking,  turning  her 
beautiful  neck  from  side  to  side.  "Poor  Snow- 
white!"  whispered  Adnah,  "what  cruel  one  has 
shot  your  mate  with  his  bow  ?  Or  what  fate  has 
befallen  him  ?  Plainly  you  are  lonely,  fair  one, 
though  in  the  midst  of  such  a  company." 

The  pigeons  soon  lost  their  fears  of  Adnah. 
They  held  a  consultation  about  him  in  their  alcove. 
"Clearly  this  is  some  huge  bird,"  said  the  bronze 
cock;  "otherwise,  how  could  he  have  flown 
hither?  And  therefore  he  is  our  brother."  "  It  is 
true;  your  cooings  are  those  of  wisdom,"  declared 
the  dove-colored  male.  "  And  who  asked  you  for 
your  opinion  ?  "  demanded  Bronze  Plumage.  Then 
Bronze  Plumage  began  to  turn  himself  about  and 
about,  in  order  to  work  up  his  rage;  and  when  he 
had  described  many  narrow  circles,  he  darted  at 
Dove-color  and  chased  him  to  the  window-sill. 
Then  again  he  followed  his  tail  round  and  round 
till  his  fury  was  in  such  a  state  that  he  plunged  at 
poor  Dove-color  and  bounced  him  out  into  the  un 
friendly  world.  After  this  demonstration  of  his  ex- 


In  Mid-Air  127 

ecutive  powers,  Bronze  Plumage  hopped  toward 
his  own  Purple  Necklace,  so  swelled  out  with  rage 
and  pride  that  his  breast  almost  smothered  his  bill. 
Poor  Dove-color  circled  in  the  air  outside  till  he 
thought  it  safe  to  enter  once  more.  Bronze  Plu 
mage  looked  at  him  with  his  wicked  little  eyes  and 
said,  "  If  you  come  cooing  around  me,  I'll  do  it 
again!"  Then  Dove-color  hopped  meekly  over  to 
his  ungainly  children,  and  hid  his  head  under  one 
wing.  In  the  meantime  Snow-white  continued  to 
gaze  from  her  perch  with  searching  eyes,  looking 
for  that  mate  who  would  never  return.  Ah,  poor 
Snow-white,  he  is  gone  from  thee,  he  lies,  not  stiff 
and  cold,  but  hot  and  browned  by  his  own  gravy, 
upon  some  cannibal's  board.  But  take  heart, 
Snow-white, — are  there  not  other  mates  to  be 
sought  and  found?  Fear  not!  Somewhere  in  the 
wide  world,  a  friend  is  looking  for  thee,  even  as 
thou  lookest  for  a  friend. 

Night  came  and  found  Adnah's  bottle  of  water 
and  bag  of  cakes  materially  reduced.  All  that  day 
he  had  remained  in  a  dazed  state  of  inertness  that 
comes  when  hope  flees.  At  night  he  slept  heavily, 
the  result  of  exhausted  sorrow.  On  the  morning 
he  was  awakened  by  the  cooing  of  pigeons. 
"Good-morning,  my  friends!"  he  said,  feeling 
new  life  steal  into  his  blood  with  the  fresh  sun- 


128  Adnah 

light.  For  in  the  early  morning  the  light  flooded 
the  stone  room.  He  drew  in  new  activity  under 
that  golden  bath.  Purple  necklace  still  sat  upon 
her  two  eggs,  as  if  the  hatching  of  a  pair  of  squabs 
was  of  more  importance  than  the  downfall  of 
nations.  Wise  Purple  Necklace!  If  those  pigeons 
who  leave  their  nests  to  soar  into  higher  spheres, 
would  only  learn  of  thee!  Still  stood  Snow-white, 
her  eyes  circled  by  red  rims,  staring  into  the  world, 
and  finding  it  lonely  and  desolate.  But  what  was 
this  going  forward  on  the  window-sill  ?  A  strange 
pigeon  had  come,  and  was  battling  for  Snow-white. 
How  had  he  heard  of  the  lonely  one  ?  Strange 
how  hearts  speak  together  from  remote  regions! 

Bronze  Plumage  is  battling  with  the  stranger. 
And  O,  time-serving  Dove-color!  Thou,  too,  hast 
joined  thy  forces  with  those  of  thy  domineering, 
hectoring  master.  It  is  two  against  the  stranger. 
How  they  fight  and  roll  in  their  fluffy  feathers,  and 
swell  and  coo  with  rage  as  if  they  were  not  sweet 
innocent  birds,  but  human  beings  without  wings! 
He  is  defeated, — the  stranger  turns,  his  breast  quite 
red  with  blood,  he  staggers  over  the  sill,  he  falls. 
But  his  beating  wings  find  the  air,  and  up  he  soars, 
and  flies  away.  And  Snow-white,  who  all  this 
time  has  pretended  to  see  nothing,  spreads  her 
wings,  and  follows  the  stranger,  never  to  return. 


In  Mid-Air  129 

Then  Bronze  Plumage  after  swelling  till  his  head  is 
quite  hidden  by  his  breast,  till  his  breath  comes  in 
gasps  through  his  buried  bill,  turns  upon  his  recent 
ally,  and  gives  him  chase. 

Adnah  crawled  to  the  window-sill  and  looked 
down  at  the  remote  valley,  and  up  at  the  distant 
overhanging  precipice.  He  uttered  a  sudden  cry. 
He  had  seen  something  which  yesterday  was  not 
visible.  About  ten  feet  below  the  sill  ran  a  ledge 
along  the  face  of  the  cliff,  scarcely  a  foot  in  width. 
It  began  under  the  window,  and  ran  past  the  short 
turn  in  the  wall.  Much  farther  it  did  not  go,  for 
when  the  crooked  wall  turned  back  again,  it  was 
gone.  Yesterday  he  had  gazed  intently  at  this 
ledge,  he  had  seen  how  he  could  reach  it.  At  the 
side  of  his  natural  window  stood  a  stone  column,  to 
which  he  could  conveniently  tie  his  rope.  By  the 
rope  he  could  reach  the  frightfully  narrow  ledge. 
The  very  thought  of  standing  on  that  strip  of  rock 
in  mid-air  made  his  blood  turn  cold.  Hitherto,  he 
had  seen  nothing  to  be  gained  in  reaching  the 
ledge.  Now,  it  was  different.  At  that  turn  in  the 
wall,  which  for  several  yards  hid  that  part  of  the 
surface  from  him,  something  white  lay  upon  the 
ledge.  It  was  a  parchment,  such  as  was  then  used 
in  the  writing  of  letters. 

How   had   it  come  there  ?    Certainly   not  from 


130  Adnah 

above;  it  was  clearly  impossible  that  it  could  have 
come  from  below.  A  pigeon  could  not  carry  so 
heavy  a  weight,  even  granting  a  bird  should  show 
such  an  abnormal  taste  as  to  seize  upon  a  manu 
script.  The  conviction  shaped  itself  in  Adnah's 
mind  that  the  turn  in  the  wall  hid  the  mouth  of  an 
other  cave.  Why  not  ?  Below  him  he  could  see 
openings.  And  if  the  letter  had  been  thrown  out 
of  a  cave,  either  somebody  was,  or  had  been 
within.  Still,  that  ledge  was  not  to  be  traveled 
without  more  certainty.  Adnah  set  himself  the 
task  of  watching  that  turning  point  in  the  wall,— 
much  to  the  annoyance  of  his  pigeon  friends,  who 
wanted  the  window-sill  to  themselves.  And  indeed 
Bronze  Plumage  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  said, 
"  Ah,  if  you  were  only  a  little  smaller,  my  friend!  " 
On  the  preceding  day  Adnah  had  tied  his  cloak  to 
the  stone  pillar,  hoping  it  might  be  seen  by  a  chance 
traveler  in  the  gorge.  He  had  put  it  on  at  night,  as 
the  air  grew  cold.  Now  once  more  he  divested 
himself  of  the  garment  and  let  it  flutter  as  a  signal, 
having  little  hope  that  it  would  be  discovered. 
The  day  wore  on.  The  sun  had  passed  its  highest 
glory  when  his  watching  was  rewarded.  A  stray 
pigeon,  after  circling  about  his  window-sill,  darted 
to  the  right,  made  straight  for  that  part  of  the  wall 
that  was  hidden  by  its  corner,  and  vanished.  Evi- 


In  Mid-Air  131 

dently  it  had  entered  a  cave,  only  a  few  feet  above 
the  narrow  ledge  of  rock.  Or  had  it  simply  clung 
to  the  rough  surface  ?  No,  the  parchment  had 
surely  been  cast  from  a  cave.  Here  was  proof.  In 
his  excitement  Adnah  leaped  up  and  by  his  sudden 
motion  struck  the  water-bottle.  It  bounded  out  of 
the  opening.  He  watched  it  fall  to  earth  with  a 
sickening  sense  of  loss.  He  became  aware,  at  the 
same  time,  that  he  was  quite  thirsty,  for  he  had 
been  hoarding  up  his  treasure.  His  nerves  were  so 
shaken  by  this  loss  that  he  threw  himself  upon  the 
ground  and  wept  and  bewailed  his  misfortune. 
His  spirit  of  adventure  was  quite  gone.  The  day 
came  to  an  end,  another  night,  bright  with  stars, 
succeeded.  His  longing  for  water  had  become  in 
tense.  He  had  eaten  more  of  the  bread,  but  it  did 
not  give  him  ease.  Through  the  long  night  he 
tossed  and  moaned.  In  the  first  light  of  day  he 
arose.  "It  must  be  done  this  morning  or  never!" 
he  said. 

He  waited  till  the  sun  shone  bright,  then  tied  one 
end  of  the  rope  to  the  stone  pillar.  Without  daring 
to  look  down,  he  seized  the  swinging  rope,  and  let 
himself  down  upon  the  ledge.  Then  he  crept  for 
ward  sideways,  his  face  against  the  cliff,  both  arms 
outspread,  as  if  seeking  to  grasp  the  grim  surface. 
"If  I  can  keep  from  looking  down! "  he  thought. 


132  Adnah 

"If  I  can  keep  from  thinking!"  He  came  to  a 
place  where  his  foot  told  him  the  ledge  had 
dwindled  to  a  mere  rim  of  a  few  inches  in  width. 
He  stopped.  He  could  not  remember  any  place 
where  the  ledge  grew  narrower.  He  began  to 
tremble,  and  a  cold  perspiration  broke  out  upon  his 
brow.  He  leaned  his  head  against  the  wall,  think 
ing,  "I  am  growing  dizzy!  "  But  perhaps  the  nar 
row  place  did  not  extend  far.  He  cautiously 
advanced  his  foot.  Yes,  he  could  feel  be 
yond  it.  But  could  he  make  so  far  a  step  ? 
He  must!  He  dared  not  delay  to  consider  the 
danger. 

Well  for  him  that  he  had  left  behind  his  bread- 
bag  and  all  unnecessary  burdens!  Slowly  planting 
his  naked  foot  beyond  the  dangerous  point,  steady 
ing  himself  with  his  palms  against  the  wall,  he 
threw  his  weight  upon  the  advanced  limb.  Now 
he  was  over.  And  now  he  had  come  to  the  angle 
where  the  wall  slightly  turned.  Near  him  lay  the 
parchment.  He  saw  that  it  was  written  over  in 
Greek  characters.  But  that  brief  glance  had  also 
shown  him  the  swimming  world  far,  far  below 
him, — a  world  that  seemed  to  rise  in  curious  bil 
lows  as  if  to  receive  him.  Oh,  for  the  will  to  turn 
his  eyes  away  from  that  enchanting  danger,  that  fas 
cinating  terror!  How  could  he  gain  the  resolution  ? 


In  Mid-Air  133 

Think  of  Iddo  and  of  his  revenge!  Ah,  yes!  He 
was  strong  again. 

He  raised  his  eyes,  and  scanned  the  surface  of 
the  cliff.  One  foot  touched  the  manuscript.  And 
yonder  the  ledge  came  to  a  sudden  end.  But  here, 
within  easy  reach  of  his  hands,  even  as  low  as  his 
shoulders,  was  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  Oh, — deli 
cious  feeling  of  safety!  He  stared  into  the  open 
ing,  he  laid  his  arms  over  the  second  window-sill. 

What  sound  was  that  from  the  interior  of  this 
new  cave  ?  A  wild  scream, — a  scream  of  fear  and 
rage.  What  white  thing  was  this  darting  towards 
him  through  the  gloom  ?  Were  these  the  gnashing 
teeth,  the  bloodshot  eyes  of  a  savage  beast  ?  Yes, 
and  of  more  than  a  beast  of  prey! 

Two  hands  caught  his  arms  and  tore  them  away 
from  the  coping.  He  was  bent  backward  over  the 
fearful  depths.  A  frenzied  voice  shrieked  in  his 
ears.  He  gave  no  heed  to  the  words. 

It  was  enough  to  comprehend  that  the  voice  was 
the  voice  of  Iddo. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ADNAH  LEARNS  THE  TRUTH 

WHEN  Adnah  recovered  consciousness, — for  in 
that  frenzied  grasp  of  Iddo  he  had  swooned  away, 
—his  first  sensation  was  one  of  surprise  that  he 
should  recover  at  all.  Coupled  with  this  was  a 
curious  contempt  for  the  dangers  of  the  cliff,  since 
he  had  fallen  hundreds  of  feet,  yet  was  alive! 
What  of  his  bones?  He  tried  to  move,  expecting 
excruciating  pains.  He  experienced  nothing  of  the 
sort.  He  opened  his  eyes,  and  saw  a  strange  face 
bending  over  him.  "  Where  didyou  come  from  ?  " 
said  Adnah  faintly. 

A  strange  voice  answered,  "It  is  enough  that  I 
am  here." 

"You  see  before  you  a  strange  being,"  said 
Adnah,  closing  his  eyes,  the  better  to  enjoy  his 
own  greatness;  "one  who  can  leap  frightful 
abysses,  scale  glassy  slopes  full  of  gaping  mouths, 
cling  like  a  fly  to  stone  walls,  and  fall  hundreds  of 
feet,  yet  be  perfectly  safe  and  unhurt!  " 

"  As  to  your  being  like  unto  a  fly,  I  know  not," 
'34 


Adnah  Learns  the  Truth  135 

said  the  voice.  "  But  as  to  your  falling  such  dis 
tances,  think  it  not.  You  are  in  the  cave." 

Adnah  started  up.     "  I  did  not  fall  ?  " 

"That  you  live,  proves  it,"  returned  the  other, 
who  was  also  a  youth  of  about  his  own  age. 

At  first  Adnah  felt  a  foolish  disappointment,  as  if 
he  had  not  quite  come  up  to  his  own  expectations. 
Then  his  mind  grew  clearer.  He  rose  to  his  feet 
crying,  "  What  of  Iddo  ?" 

The  stranger  pointed.  And  there  lay  Iddo  upon 
the  ground  of  the  second  cave,  securely  tied  to  a 
projection  from  the  wall,  so  he  could  scarcely  move. 
His  arms  were  bound  behind  his  back.  His  legs 
were  so  wrapped  with  cords  that  they  were  almost 
hidden  in  the  meshes.  Adnah  walked  to  where  he 
lay  upon  his  side,  and  gloated  upon  the  prisoner. 
"Ah,  Iddo,"  he  said,  "I  have  dreamed  of  this 
moment!  I  have  seen  you  lying  thus,  many  a  time, 
as  Simon  and  I  passed  dreary  days,  and  even  weeks, 
in  the  cave." 

"  Have  mercy  upon  me!  "   moaned  the  Pharisee. 

"Listen,  Iddo;  you  know  the  law.  Heard  you 
ever  such  a  saying  as  'An  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth 
for  a  tooth'  ?  " 

"Adnah,  my  nephew,  you  will  not  murder  a  de 
fenseless  old  man  ?" 

"I  am  your  nephew,  and  that  is  one  more  charge 


136  Adnah 

against  you.  But  you  are  not  too  old  to  die, 
Iddo.  See,  this  is  the  knife  I  have  carried  next  my 
heart,  to  keep  it  warm  for  you!  " 

Iddo  rolled  his  terrified  eyes  toward  the  stranger. 
"  Do  not  let  him  kill  a  poor,  innocent  man,  who  is 
great  in  Israel.  Save  me  from  him,  and  great  shall 
be  the  ransom  given  you!  " 

The  stranger  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  want 
no  ransom  for  a  dog,"  he  said. 

"You  are  my  friend!"  cried  Adnah,  grasping  the 
stranger's  hand.  "What  is  the  name  of  him  who 
saved  my  life  ?  " 

"  I  am  Gothinus;  but  take  not  my  hand,  for  I  am 
a  slave,  and  no  Jew,  but  a  German." 

"  I  care  not  if  you  be  Jew  or  Gentile,  rich  or  poor; 
there  is  an  honest  heart  in  your  bosom!"  cried 
Adnah,  seizing  the  reluctant  hand.  "Good  Gothi 
nus,  how  can  I  thank  you  ?" 

"Thank  me  not;  it  is  Miriam,  the  daughter  of 
Joel,  who  has  sent  me  to  deliver  you.  I  saw  the 
signal  given  yesterday,  fluttering  from  a  cave.  All 
last  night  I  was  climbing  among  the  rocks.  When 
at  last  I  saw  the  mule  and  found  the  path,  and 
Iddo's  slave  standing  at  the  back  entrance,  1  re 
joiced." 

"Ah,  the  slave!"  cried  Adnah.  "What  of 
him  ?" 


Adnah  Learns  the  Truth  137 

"Nothing  of  him,"  returned  Gothinus  coolly, 
"save  a  breathless  head  cut  from  a  lifeless  body. 
For  he  sought  to  oppose  me.  We  fought,  and  I 
hewed  him  down." 

Iddo  gave  a  despairing  cry. 

"Yes,  Pharisee,"  said  Gothinus,  "no  one  knows 
of  this  place,  save  we  three.  Look,  Adnah,  see 
what  a  pleasant  occupation  Iddo  had,  before  you 
interrupted  him! " 

The  slave  pointed  to  a  spot  where  aheap  of  coins 
lay  scattered.  "Here  he  keeps  his  money,"  con 
tinued  Gothinus.  "He  comes  to  count  it,  to  take 
away  what  he  needs.  Only  he  and  the  slave  know 
of  this  place,  else  he  would  never  cast  his  money 
about  so  freely.  How  came  he  by  such  a  store, 
think  you?  For  Iddo  is  a  poor  man!  Well,  as  I 
stood  watching  him,  suddenly  you  appeared  at 
yonder  opening.  You  should  have  seen  Iddo's  face 
turn  white!  He  thought  you  a  ghost!  I  ran  for 
ward,  but  he  was  quicker.  He  seized  you,  he 
would  have  hurled  you  from  the  ledge.  But  with 
one  hand  I  caught  you, — with  the  other,  your  uncle. 
Both  of  you  swooned  in  my  grasp.  He  fell  back 
ward  upon  the  floor,  and  I  could  give  you  all  my 
strength.  When  he  recovered,  he  found  himself 
bound  as  you  see  him.  What  a  surprise  for 
Iddo!" 


1 38  Adnah 

"  Gothinus,  I  love  you  as  a  brother!  And  you 
know  Miriam  ?  And  she  sent  you  hither  ?  Strange, 
how  forces  are  being  put  into  motion  for  our  happi 
ness,  while  we,  unknowing,  despair!  As  for  you, 
Iddo,  prepare  to  die!" 

"Gothinus,  save  me!"  pleaded  the  Pharisee. 
"  All  this  money  shall  be  yours.  It  will  make  you 
a  rich  man.  Dear  Gothinus  — 

" I  am  a  Gentile,"  returned  the  slave,  "but  I  know 
a  little  of  your  law,  for  Lucius,  the  centurion,  loves 
it.  Does  it  not  say,  Refuse  to  accept  the  price  of  a 
dog?  Whether  it  does  or  does  not,  save  your 
wailings!  If  I  were  Adnah,  I  would  give  you  a 
quick  passage  to  your  second  world!" 

Adnah  drew  his  knife.  "In  the  name  of  my 
miserable  years, — and  not  forgetting  the  wrongs  to 
Simon!"  he  cried.  "But  I  remember,— a  parch 
ment  lies  outside  upon  the  ledge.  Gothinus,  can 
you  read  ?  " 

"Yes;  for  am  I  not  a  slave?  I  will  get  the 
parchment! "  Gothinus  hurried  to  the  opening  and 
leaning  over,  secured  the  manuscript. 

"It  goes  exceedingly  against  my  taste,"  observed 
Adnah  musingly,  "to  strike  a  defenseless  man. 
Read,  Gothinus.  It  may  be,  here  is  something  to 
soften  my  heart  towards  this  villain." 

Iddo,  seeing  the  parchment,  gave  a  wild  scream, 


Adnah  Learns  the  Truth  139 

and  fought  to  free  himself,  but  the  attempt  was  in 
vain.  Gothinus  read, 

'"To  Iddo  the  Pharisee,  my  dear  brother,  peace 
and  wisdom  and  prosperity.' ' 

"What!"  cried  Adnah,  starting  violently,  "his 
brother?  It  does  not  say  his  brother?" 

"So  it  reads,"  responded  Gothinus,  who  saw  no 
cause  for  excitement.  "  Shall  I  read  on  ?  " 

"  But  when  was  this  written  ?  " 

"There  is  no  time  specified.  But  you  can  see  the 
writing  is  not  very  old." 

"Not  old!  how  could  it  be  otherwise?  Ah, — but 
it  has  been  well  preserved  in  this  cave;  that  is  it. 
Iddo's  brother  died  eight  years  ago.  ...  He 
was  crucified.  Read  on,  Gothinus."  Adnah  cov 
ered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  shook  violently. 

"'/  write,  as  formerly,  from  the  palace.  Since 
you  came  last  in  Jerusalem,  I  have  beard  nothing  of 
my  son '  " 

"Since  he  came  last  in  Jerusalem?"  repeated 
Adnah,  dropping  his  hands  and  staring  first  at  the 
reader,  then  at  his  cringing  uncle;  "I  must  have 
been  very  young  at  that  time.  I  cannot  remember 
that  my  father  ever  left  me  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem. 
And  how  could  my  father  have  written  from  a 
palace  ?  And  he  says  he  had  written  from  the  pal 
ace  '  formerly.'  This  is  a  wild  forgery,  indeed!  " 


140  Adnah 

"I  know  not,"  said  Gothinus  calmly.  "Will 
you  have  the  rest,  or  pause  to  digest  what  has  al 
ready  been  given  you  ?  " 

"  Read,  read  quickly,  good  Gothinus!  " 

"  ' /  have  heard  nothing  of  my  son,  and  this 

long  silence  has  grown  heavier  than  my  heart  can 
bear.  Remember,  Iddo,  I  am  a  foolish,  fond  old 
father, — old,  at  least,  in  sufferings, — and  all  the 
happiness  of  my  life  now  comes  from  hearing  of  my 
dear  boy.' " 

"Strange,  strange,"  murmured  Adnah.  "This 
must  be  to  another  Iddo,  from  another  father, — but 
how  he  loves  his  child!  " 

"Perhaps  the  light  will  presently  dawn,"  ob 
served  Gothinus  stoically;  "  surely  we  have  had 
twilight  long  enough!  I  read:  ' //  has  now  been 
eight  years  and  well  have  you  kept  your 
trust.' ' 

"Eight  years?"  interrupted  Adnah  sharply. 
"Did  you  read  'eight  years'?  Eight  years  since 
when  ?  God  of  Israel! — eight  years  ?  "  He  turned 
upon  Iddo.  "Who  wrote  that  letter?  When  was 
it  written  ?  What  does  it  mean  ?" 

Iddo  lay  stretched  upon  the  floor  with  a  livid  face. 
There  was  a  white  foam  upon  his  lips.  He  made 
no  answer.  His  eyes  wore  the  glassy  stare  of  one 
who  is  suffocating. 


Adnah  Learns  the  Truth  141 

"Read  —  read  —  read!"  cried  Adnah,  wildly. 

"Eight  years, — oh "  he  caught  the  arm  of 

Gothinus  to  steady  himself. 

"'Dear  brother,  cease  to  reproach  yourself. 
Banish  your  foolish  and  vain  regrets.  For  what 
you  did  in  those  fatal  days,  surely  you  have  alto 
gether  atoned  by  years  of  tender  devotion  to  my  dar 
ling  boy.  Do  not  brood  upon  my  tramp  to  Jerusalem, 
— the  soldiers  on  horseback  dragging  me  by  a  rope, 
— /  was  scarcely  conscious  of  those  tortures,  for  the 
shadow  of  the  cross  fell  upon  the  world,  look  where 
I  might ;  and  still  less  do  I  care  for  my  sufferings, 
since  I  have  escaped  crucifixion '  " 

"Read  that  again!"  came  Adnah's  voice,  low, 
muffled,  dangerous. 

"  ' /  have  escaped  crucifixion,  therefore  I  pray 

you  think  of  this,  and  be  of  good  cheer.  What 
though  eight  years  have  dragged  by  ?  Has  not  my 
Adnah ' " 

"It  says  'My  Adnah'?" 

"  ' Has  not  my  Adnah  grown  up  under  your 

care  and  instruction,  one  of  the  most  promising 
among  the  coming  great  ones  of  Israel  ? ' ' 

"  He  was  not  crucified,"  whispered  Adnah  to 
himself;  "  my  father  lives!  " 

"  '  Therefore,  Iddo,  let  your  conscience  no  longer 
reproach  you,  since  my  Adnah  is  already  in  the 


142  Adnah 

palace  of  King  Herod,  one  foot  upon  the  ladder  of 
greatness,  the  other  about  to  leave  the  earth.1  >: 

"Ah!"  whispered  Adnah  with  a  glance  at  his 
uncle.  Iddo  quivered  convulsively. 

"Truly,"  said  Gothinus,  glancing  up  at  Adnah, 
"  I  knew  not  I  was  dealing  with  so  great  a  person 
age!  But  I  read;  '/  am  strong, — I  am  able  to  bear 
the  blame  into  the  grave.' ' 

"  I  begin  to  understand,"  said  Adnah  in  the  same 
curious  whisper,  while  his  face  grew  more  white 
and  terrible. 

"  '  After  all,  I  was  not  a  fit  father  for  so  talented 
and  gracious  a  boy.  I  could  not  have  trained  him 
aright.  You  who  know  everything,  and  who  have 
done  everything  well — except  that  one  time,— you  are 
the  one  to  educate  him  and  develop  his  powers.  So 
he  is  the  son  of  a  Pharisee,  not  of  a  Publican  !  Ah, 
if  he  could  lie  taught  to  love  me  just  a  little  ! — then 
it  would  not  be  hard  for  me,  this  life  as  a  Roman's 
slave.  But  that  cannot  be,  of  course,  for  he  must 
believe  me  a  thief,  and  believing  thus,  cannot  feel 
for  me  even  kindness.  Better  so.  Now  for  this 
time,  farewell,  my  brother,  but  I  beseech  you,  delay 
not  to  write  and  tell  me  how  fares  my  child.  For  I 
cease  to  be  a  slave  in  this  great  palace,  and  become 
its  master,  when  I  have  tidings  of  my  Adnah.' " 

"  Villain! "  shrieked  Adnah,  finding  his  voice  at 


Adnah  Learns  the  Truth  143 

last,  and  rushing  upon  the  prostrate  Iddo,  "so  it 
was  you  who  stole  the  money  from  the  receipt  of 
custom,  while  my  father  took  the  blame!  It  is  you, 
you,  Iddo,  who  are  the  thief  and  who  should  have 
been  crucified!  Your  heart  is  black  with  that  crime 
while  your  hypocritical  lips  pray  that  I  may  be  for 
given  the  sins  of  my  father.  His  sins  ?  nay,  yours, 
the  infamy,  doubly  infamous  because  of  your  pre 
tense  of  innocence.  Woe  unto  you,  Iddo!  whose 
crime  is  visited  upon  your  brother  by  his  own  con 
sent,  who  is  a  slave  in  your  stead — an  innocent 
man, — my  father;  a  noble  man;  but  a  foolish  man, 
to  imagine  that  his  son  could  receive  aught  but 
curses  from  the  one  for  whose  guilty  sake  he  en 
dures  shame  and  suffering.  Better  for  you,  O  Iddo, 
if  you  had  never  been  born! " 


CHAPTER  XV 

REVENGE 

IDDO  struggled  to  rise  upon  his  knees. 
"Speak!  "  cried  Adnah,  "  speak,  false  uncle,  false 
brother,  false  Pharisee!    Speak,  or  this  dagger  will 
find  your  heart.     Confess!     Were  you  the  thief  ?  " 
"Adnah,  Adnah,  mercy!" 
"  Did  you  steal  the  money  ?    Quick  — 

"Yes,  O  yes Stay  your  hand,  Adnah,  my 

nephew." 

"  And  you  let  my  father  bear  the  blame  ?" 
"Hear  reason,  Adnah,  hear  me;  that  was  not 
my  fault.  It  was  his  choice.  Before  I  could  con 
fess,  he  cried  out  to  the  soldiers  that  he  was  the 
thief,  not  I.  Do  not  condemn  me,  since  he,  of  his 
own  choice,  went  to  meet  crucifixion,  which  the 
mercy  of  the  Romans  changed  to  slavery." 

"Yes.  .  .  .  But  why  did  he  take  the  blame 
from  you  ?" 

"O,  Adnah,  he  loves,  he  venerates  me.  Adnah, 
Adnah,  remember  your  father  loves  me  with  his 
very  soul! " 

"Nay,   he  loves  not  you,  but  a  dream   which 
144 


Revenge  145 

his  fancy  has  named  'Iddo.'  But  speak:  what 
were  you  to  do  for  me  ?  " 

"  Give  you  food  and  shelter;  have  I  not  done  so  ?  " 

"And  no  kindness,  withal?" 

"I  would  have  been  kind,  Adnah,  had  you  let 
me." 

' '  False  Iddo !  Were  you  to  educate  me,  and  place 
me  in  Herod's  palace  ?  The  truth,  Iddo, — or  instant 
death!" 

"  But  yes,  I  still  mean  to  do  so,  Adnah.  Did  you 
think  I  meant  to  starve  you  in  the  cave  ?  Oh,  no, 
my  slave  and  I  were  coming  this  very  night  to  tell 
you  it  was  only  a — a — little  jest,  it  was  only  to  try 
your  courage,  it  was  only  a — a ' 

"You  hear  him  ?"  said  Adnah,  gazing  a  moment 
at  the  wretched  man  with  unutterable  scorn,  then 
turning  to  Gothinus  — 

"  I  hear,"  said  the  German  calmly. 

"What  would  you  do  with  him,  Gothinus?" 

"  Silence  him,"  advised  his  friend  darkly. 

"  The  dagger  is  too  quick  a  death,"  said  Adnah, 
still  awful  in  his  wrath.  "After  my  revenge  is 
completed,  what  does  life  offer  ?  My  father  is  a 
slave  and  I  am  homeless,  outcast,  scorned.  Who 
will  believe  my  word  against  Iddo's  ?  The  world 
would  call  this  letter  a  forgery,  as  even  I  declared  it 
half  an  hour  ago.  If  I  drag  Iddo  before  the  tri- 


146  Adnah 

bunal,  his  words  will  cast  me  into  a  dungeon. 
And  though  I  slay  him,  what  can  my  father  do  ? 
Eight  years  he  has  declared  himself  a  thief.  Sup 
pose  he  should  say,  '  After  all  I  am  innocent.  The 
great  Pharisee,  my  brother  is  the  thief.'  He  would 
be  mocked  as  a  liar,  and  reviled  for  seeking  to  cast 
a  blot  upon  his  dead  brother.  There  is  no  justice 
for  me,  no  help  for  him, — save  in  my  revenge. 
Therefore  let  my  revenge  last  long,  ay,  let  it  last  till 
there  is  not  a  drop  of  blood  in  this  vile  body  that 
can  leap  with  the  thrill  of  agony!  " 

Iddo  uttered  a  terrible  cry. 

"  Gothinus,  you  are  my  friend.  You  will  reveal 
to  none  that  Iddo  is  my  prisoner?" 

"  Your  secret  is  safe  with  me." 

"Iddo,"  said  his  nephew,  "my  father  is  a  slave 
in  some  palace  in  Jerusalem.  Whose  palace?  and 
does  he  still  bear  the  name  of  Samuel  ?" 

"Adnah,  Adnah 

"  Quick — the  truth  will  buy  you  a  respite!  " 

"  He  is  the  slave  of  Caius  Marcellus  and  he  goes 
by  the  name  of — of — of — Galba." 

"Let  us  go,"  said  Adnah  to  Gothinus;  "  I  shall 
leave  Iddo  here  till  Simon  is  liberated  from  the  other 
cave.  I  am  very  thirsty." 

"Mercy,  mercy,  Adnah!  Will  you  leave  me 
alone  to  die  of  starvation  ?" 


Revenge  147 

"  I  shall  return,  fear  not!  and  I  leave  you  in  good 
company."  And  pointing  to  the  slave's  head,  he 
departed,  followed  by  Gothinus,  deaf  to  the  fren 
zied  supplications  of  the  miserable  prisoner.  Wild 
and  well-nigh  impassable  were  the  heights  about 
the  back  entrance  of  the  cave.  Gothinus  who 
knew  the  way,  led  Adnah  forth  with  the  greatest 
difficulty.  There  was  no  danger  of  any  one  seek 
ing  Iddo  in  these  almost  inaccessible  cliffs.  He  was 
entirely  at  the  mercy  of  Adnah.  The  white  counte 
nance  of  the  youth  boded  no  good  for  his  uncle,  as 
he  proceeded  silently  among  jagged  rocks  and  wild 
brambles.  At  last  they  left  the  worst  part  of  the 
way,  and  came  to  the  place  where  Iddo's  mule  had 
been  fastened.  As  they  proceeded,  Adnah  led  the 
beast,  and  told  Gothinus  about  Simon's  captivity. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done,  was  to  liberate  the 
leper.  Lucius  the  centurion  would  send  men  to  dig 
through  the  accumulation  that  buried  the  entrance 
of  the  first  cave.  There  was  to  be  no  secret  about 
the  part  Iddo  and  his  slave  had  taken  in  the  throw- 
ing-down  of  the  avalanche,  nor  of  the  imprison 
ment  of  Adnah.  Of  course  no  one, — at  least,  no 
Jew, — would  believe  the  story.  But  Iddo  and  his 
slave  would  be  gone.  Presently  people  would  be 
gin  to  suspect  they  had  run  away.  At  last  their 
guilt  would  appear  manifest. 


148  Adnah 

"And  in  the  meantime,  what  of  Iddo?"  said 
Gothinus. 

"I  have  not  yet  decided.  But  I  shall  keep  him 
there  for  days,  as  1  was  kept  in  the  cave, — ever  with 
the  fear  of  death,  as  I  feared  the  dark  abyss.  Some 
times  I  shall  let  him  almost  starve,  or  perish  for 
water;  perhaps  at  last  I  shall  cast  him  down  into 
the  valley,  as  in  his  intention,  he  cast  me  down. 
'An  eye  for  an  eye,'  Gothinus!" 

"You  enjoy  your  revenge!  "  remarked  Gothinus. 

"  It  is  all  I  have  in  the  world,"  said  Adnah.  "  My 
soul  is  wedded  to  it." 

"  A  ghastly  bride,"  said  the  slave. 

"Yet  you,  my  friend,  cannot  blame  me?" 

"Who  could?  Only  if  it  were  my  revenge,  I 
would  have  it  quickly  over,  the  sooner  to  enjoy  my 
victuals!" 

Adnah  went  to  the  centurion  with  Gothinus,  and 
told  him  how  he  and  the  leper  had  been  entombed 
by  Iddo,  and  how  Gothinus  had  found  him  and  led 
him  to  freedom, — not  mentioning  the  second  chap 
ter  of  Iddo's  story.  The  Roman,  who  had  a  great 
love  for  his  slave,  agreed  to  send  some  workmen  to 
clear  away  the  avalanche. 

Adnah  sighed  with  relief.  "I  feared,  O  centur 
ion,"  he  said,  "that  my  words  would  not  find  be 
lief." 


Revenge  149 

"To  be  frank,"  said  the  Roman,  "this  much  I 
believe;  that  as  you  and  the  leper  lay  in  the  cave, 
the  avalanche  fell;  and  that  you  had  run  away  from 
home  to  the  cave,  not  knowing  the  leper  was 
within.  As  to  Iddo  and  his  slave  picking  up  a 
mountain  of  stone  and  earth,  and  laying  it  against 
the  mouth  of  the  cave,  that  is  manifestly  false. 
Had  Iddo  done  such  a  thing,  Hercules  must  by  this 
time  have  melted  in  his  own  hot  blushes! " 

"Yet,  my  master,"  said  Gothinus,  "you  know 
how  easily  a  mighty  avalanche  is  started." 

"And  I  know  this  even  better,"  said  Lucius; 
"that  when  you  hate  a  man,  you  make  him  the 
villain  of  your  romance.  Enough.  The  avalanche 
shall  be  cleared  away.  As  to  Iddo,  I  shall  not  mo 
lest  him." 

"It  is  well,"  said  Adnah  gloomily.  "But  be 
hold,  here  is  his  mule  we  found  upon  the  road. 
Take  him  for  I  shall  never  return  to  Iddo's  home." 

"I  know  not  how  you  came  by  the  beast,"  said 
Lucius.  "That  proves  nothing.  But  leave  him 
not  here.  Is  my  garrison  a  stable  for  the  stray 
mules  of  Pharisees?"  Adnah  turned  the  beast 
loose.  A  deep  draught  from  a  spring  that  he  had 
encountered  among  the  stones  had  given  him 
strength.  He  went  with  the  few  slaves  who  were 
sent  to  dig  before  the  cave.  Indeed  no  men  were 


1 50  Adnah 

found  who  would  go  willingly,  since  none  wished 
to  defile  himself  by  approaching  so  near  a  leper. 
A  work  of  many  days  lay  before  the  three  work 
men  who  had  been  forced  to  go,  and  these  days 
promised  to  become  weeks,  since  the  laborers 
talked  a  great  deal,  and  rested,  to  do  so  with  more 
ease.  Lucius  needed  Gothinus,  and  Adnah  alone 
was  present  to  oversee  the  work.  Although 
Lucius  had  given  him  this  position,  which  earned 
him  a  shelter  and  food,  he  was  so  young  and 
ragged  that  the  slaves  paid  no  heed  to  his  com 
mands.  There  was  one  comfort;  Simon  would  hear 
the  digging,  and  know  help  was  drawing  near. 
The  leper  had  enough  food  to  keep  him  alive,  even 
at  this  tedious  rate,  since  he  had  kept  all  the  wine, 
and  much  flour.  But  the  stubborn  perverseness  of 
the  diggers  fretted  Adnah  without  ceasing,  and 
kept  him  in  a  continual  state  of  nervous  excite 
ment. 

Nor  did  he  forget  Iddo.  How  well  he  grew  to 
know  the  way  among  the  rocks!  Almost  every 
night  he  found  his  way  to  the  high  second  cave, 
there  to  taunt  and  mercilessly  punish  his  captive. 
Had  he  not  eight  years  to  avenge, — and  not  only 
his  own  wrongs,  and  those  of  Simon,  but  the  suffer 
ings  of  his  father  ?  And  terrible,  indeed,  was  the 
punishment  of  Iddo,  with  that  ghastly  dissevered 


Revenge  151 

head  of  his  slave  ever  grinning  at  him,  when  day 
light  shone  through  the  opening! 

What  had  become  of  Iddo  ?  was  the  question 
asked  by  the  outside  world.  Impossible  that 
Adnah's  story  could  contain  a  grain  of  truth! — but 
if  Iddo  had  gone  to  Jerusalem  as  Hodesh  asserted, 
why  had  she  been  left  without  a  farewell  ?  Of 
course,  it  was  not  the  duty  of  a  well-regulated 
Pharisee  to  tell  his  wife  when,  or  whither,  he  was 
going.  Still,  it  was  strange.  The  mule  had  ambled 
back  to  his  home  with  the  dignified,  serious  mien 
assumed  only  by  mules  who  design  mischief,  or 
know  of  mischief  designed.  Where  was  Iddo  ? 
Where  was  his  slave  ?  Why  did  they  not  come 
home  and  chastise  Adnah  for  the  tale  he  had  spread 
broadcast  ? 

"Come,  Adnah,"  Gothinus  said,  one  morning 
appearing  where  the  workmen  toiled  intermittently 
between  their  more  serious  occupation  of  conversa 
tion.  "Soon  your  friend  the  leper  will  be 
free.  The  master  has  given  me  this  day,  and  I 
would  have  you  walk  with  me,  and  ease  your 
mind." 

"You  are  kind,"  said  Adnah,  who  never  suc 
ceeded  in  shaking  off  his  gloomy  mood.  Then 
raising  his  voice  he  shouted,  "Simon!" 

Faintly  came  back  the  cry,  "Adnah!" 


152  Adnah 

"He  hears,  he  hears!"  cried  Adnah,  and  tears 
came  to  his  eyes. 

"  Ah,"  said  Gothinus,  "  you  said  revenge  was  all 
there  was  left  for  you.  But  was  it  not  worth 
while  to  live,  to  hear  the  call  of  a  friend  ?" 

"  It  was  well  worth  while,"  responded  the  other 
with  a  tremulous  smile. 

"So  I  would  persuade  you  that  there  are  many 
things  in  the  world  to  woo  you  to  a  love  of  life. 
Let  us  walk  hence.  There  is  the  sunshine,  the 
flowers;  and  yonder  the  blue  sea;  and  there  are 
ever  thoughts  of  good  women  and  brave  soldiers, 
— are  not  these  enough  ?  Adnah,  kill  this  Iddo  to 
night,  and  have  done  with  him!  " 

Adnah  put  his  hand  to  his  heart.  "  Here  is  my 
father's  letter,"  he  said.  "  It  cries  for  revenge,  and 
ever  more  revenge!  " 

"Revenge!"  echoed  Gothinus.  "A  slow  re 
venge  is  a  slow  death  to  him  who  seeks  it.  In 
these  days  past,  you  have  been  dead  to  smiles  and 
happiness,  dead  to  comforts  and  interests.  All  of 
you  might  as  well  have  been  buried  deep  in  some 
grave,  except  that  part  of  you  which  is  kin  to  the 
wolf, — to  the  wild  beasts!  " 

"What  say  you?"  cried  Adnah  angrily.  "The 
wild  beasts  ?  Speak  not  thus  to  one  who  seeks 
revenge  as  his  honor,  and  his  duty!  Think 


Revenge  153 

you  it  is  a  pleasure  to  torment   Iddo?    It  is   no 
pleasure." 

"Well,  well,  Adnah,  let  us  talk  of  other  things. 
But  I  wonder  whither  go  this  multitude  ?" 

"I  wonder  also.  Behold,  they  take  the  direction 
of  the  mountain." 

"It  must  be,"  said  the  slave,  " that  they  follow 
Jesus  of  Nazareth;  for  no  multitude  is  so  great  as 
that  which  follows  in  His  footsteps." 

"Jesus?  Where  have  I  heard  that  name  ?  For 
it  is  like  no  other.  Ah,  it  was  Miriam  who  told  me; 
He  it  was  turned  water  into  wine." 

"I  know  nothing  of  that,  Adnah.  But  sure  it  is, 
He  raised  Miriam's  brother  from  his  deathbed, 
while  over  twenty  miles  away, — such  was  His 
magic!  After  that,  He  came  here  to  Capernaum  to 
live.  He  has  selected  four  of  our  fishermen  to  be 
His  disciples,  whom  formerly  He  had  taken  to 
Jerusalem  with  Him.  Peter  and  Andrew,  are  two; 
and  John  and  James,  brothers.  I  will  tell  you  how 
I  know  so  much  of  Him." 

"Do  so;  and  in  the  meantime,  let  us  go  with  the 
throng." 

"This  carpenter  is  hated  of  the  learned  Rabbis," 
said  Gothinus.  "Therefore  Iddo  despises  him.  I 
have  lately  been  tracking  Iddo,  hoping  thus  to  learn 
your  whereabouts, — or  fate.  Once  I  followed  Iddo 


1 54  Adnah 

to  Nazareth.  Jesus  had  been  preaching  in  the 
synagogue.  His  doctrine  did  not  please  the  Phari 
sees.  Iddo  and  others  stirred  up  a  mighty  tumult. 
And  they  seized  the  Preacher,  and  dragged  Him  to 
the  brow  of  a  dizzy  cliff,  meaning  to  cast  Him 
down,  as  Iddo  would  have  cast  you." 

"And  how  did  he  escape?" 

"I  know  not.  Escape  He  did,  from  their  very 
midst.  Perhaps  in  the  same  way  that  He  heals 
people.  The  mother  of  Peter's  wife  He  has  healed 
of  a  terrible  fever.  He  has  cast  out  a  devil.  He 
has  made  a  man  stricken  with  the  palsy,  walk. 
And  a  great  number  He  has  made  well,  who  had  all 
manner  of  diseases.  So  you  see  He  is  as  great  a 
physician  as  He  is  a  preacher,  or  carpenter.  But, 
shall  we  go  up  this  mountain  ?" 

"Yes,  with  the  others.  How  we  are  jostled! 
The  people  seem  in  a  strange  hurry." 

"  Yonder  He  is!  "  cried  Gothinus.  "  Those  about 
Him  are  His  disciples.  They  sit, — Jesus  is  about  to 
speak." 

"He  looks  like  no  man  that  ever  I  saw,"  said 
Adnah,  as  the  vast  concourse  seated  themselves, 
he  and  Gothinus  with  the  rest.  "  Do  but  see  His 
eyes!  I  believe  a  man  with  those  eyes  could  do 
wonderful  things!" 

"Hush!"  said  Gothinus;  "He  speaks." 


Revenge  155 

Over  the  vast  audience  floated  the  words  as  sweet 
and  clear  as  the  music  of  silver  bells;  "  Blessed  are 
the  poor  in  spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn,  for  they 
shall  be  comforted." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ALONE  WITH  HIS  ENEMY 

IT  was  night.  Adnah  made  his  way  among  the 
giant  rocks  that  lay  strewn  upon  the  heights  of 
Arbela.  The  moon  shone  brightly  over  the  wild 
scene.  The  young  man  reached  the  back  entrance 
of  the  second  cave,  and  entered  with  slow  steps. 
He  was  greeted  by  a  low  wail  from  his  prisoner. 
Iddo  remained  in  the  same  position  in  which  he  had 
first  been  bound.  Adnah  lighted  his  lamp. 

The  ghastly  head  of  the  slave  lay  upon  the  floor, 
unspeakably  repulsive.  The  Pharisee  was  white 
and  emaciated.  A  burning  thirst  shone  in  his  eyes. 
Adnah  carried  a  leathern  bottle  containing  water. 

"Adnah,  Adnah,"  groaned  his  enemy,  "give  me 
to  drink,  and  then  let  me  die! " 

The  boy  sank  upon  his  knees  beside  the  prostrate 
form,  and  held  the  water  to  his  dry  lips.  Iddo 
drank.  When  the  bottle  was  put  aside,  he  said, 
"  You  give  me  strength  for  a  while,  that  you  may 
torture  me  more  effectively.  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

Adnah  took  up  the  knife  which  had  been  lying 
for  days  just  beyond  the  reach  of  Iddo's  hand.  The 

156 


Alone  With  His  Enemy  157 

Pharisee  began  to  implore.  "Save  me,  good 
Adnah,  do  not  kill  me  at  once!  Since  I  drank,  oh, 
how  I  long  for  life!  With  the  water,  I  drank  this 
love  deep  into  my  being.  Only  for  a  few  days 
—only  till  to-morrow!  Do  what  you  will  except 
that — beat  me,  starve  me,  but  let  me  live." 

Adnah  bent  forward  with  the  knife. 

"  I  have  been  a  very  wicked  man,  Adnah,  it  is  not 
that  I  deserve  mercy.  But  there  is  so  much  I  would 
do, — there  are  so  many  to  whom  I  would  speak  a 
farewell!  Oh,  Adnah,  I  cannot  die,— all  is  so  un 
finished, — so  incomplete!" 

Bending  over  the  prisoner,  Adnah  began  to  cut 
with  his  knife  in  silence.  The  blade  severed  the 
rope  in  several  places.  Iddo  felt  the  intolerable 
agony  of  his  bondage  relax.  He  could  move  at 
last.  He  stretched  his  hands  and  feet,  luxuriating 
in  his  new  freedom.  But  his  mental  distress  in 
creased  with  his  physical  relief.  What  was  about 
to  happen  to  him  ?  He  watched  Adnah  as  a  beaten 
dog  watches  its  master. 

"  You  may  rise,"  said  the  youth. 

Iddo  remained  upon  the  ground.  "  Adnah, 
mercy,  I  beseech  you!  Adnah,  remember  that 
your  father  loves  me." 

At  those  words  Adnah  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands,  and  remained  motionless.  A  struggle  was 


1 58  Adnah 

going  on  within  him.  Presently  he  repeated, 
"  You  may  rise." 

"Good  Adnah,  strong  and  powerful  Adnah, 
what  will  you  do  to  me?"  Iddo  rose,  not  daring 
to  refuse  the  permission.  He  stood  unsteadily 
upon  his  feet,  before  the  strong  youth. 

"Iddo,  you  are  free.     Go!" 

The  Pharisee  stared  at  him  fixedly.  "  You  know 
I  cannot  escape  you,"  he  whined.  "If  I  should 
seek  to  run  away,  I  should  fall.  Do  you  play  with 
me  ?  Well, — since  it  is  your  will."  He  stumbled 
towards  the  opening.  He  had  not  gone  far  when 
Adnah  in  a  whisper  said,  "Stop!" 

Iddo  stood  motionless. 

"There  is  something  else,"  said  Adnah  raising 
his  voice  unsteadily.  "  Yes,  and  this  is  the  hardest 
part.  Iddo,  I  have  been  cruel  to  you." 

"Adnah,  child,  what  do  you  mean?  You  can 
not  intend  that  I  am  to  go  free  ?  You  do  not  mean 
that  I  am  no  longer  your  prisoner  ?  That  I  am  to 
live  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  have  I  not  said  so?" 

Iddo  fell  before  Adnah,  and  sought  to  kiss  his 
feet.  The  boy  shrank  back  with  a  shudder. 
"Touch  me  not,  thou  thief,  thou  merciless  man! — 
Nay,  Iddo,  forgive  me  those  words.  But  come  no 
nearer.  It  is  enough  that  you  are  free.  You  want 


Alone  With  His  Enemy 

no  more.  But,  oh,  there  is  more  that  I  must 
do!" 

Iddo  remained  upon  his  knees,  looking  at  Adnah 
as  if  he  doubted  his  sanity.  Adnah  approached 
him  with  a  white  face.  Iddo  crossed  his  hands 
upon  his  breast,  expecting  new  tortures.  Adnah 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  feverish  head.  "O  my 
enemy,  I  bless  you,"  he  said.  "May  you  be  happy 
and  prosperous  in  life,  and  henceforth  avoid  evil, 
and  injustice,  and  cruelty.  May  the  blessings  of 
God  rest  upon  you,  and  clear  your  path  before  you, 
and  crown  the  memory  of  you  with  glory  and 
dignity." 

Iddo's  head  sunk  upon  his  breast.  Adnah  now 
knelt  beside  the  Pharisee  and  raised  his  eyes  up 
ward.  "Our  father  who  art  in  heaven,  hallowed 
be  Thy  name,"  he  prayed.  "Thy  kingdom  come. 
Thy  will  be  done  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.  I  pray 
for  Iddo,  who  has  despitefully  used  me,  and  who 
has  persecuted  me.  1  pray  that  Thou  wilt  forgive 
him  even  as  I  forgive  him,  because  I  know  my  own 
sins  will  be  forgiven  only  as  I  forgive.  So  has 
Thy  Prophet  spoken,  and  His  words  are  true.  The 
sins  of  this  man  are  many,  but  I  pray  that  I  may 
not  seek  to  judge  of  them  lest  I  be  judged.  But 
however  great  his  wickedness  has  been,  Thou  art 
God;  Thou  canst  forgive.  Therefore,  I  pray  Thee, 


160  Adnah 

take  this  shadow  from  him,  and  help  him  to  be  a 
good  man,  and  help  me  to  love  him,  O  God,  help 
me  to  love  him  as  if  he  were  my  brother.  Grant 
that  evil  thoughts  may  not  rise  within  me  when  I 
think  of  him,  but  that  ever  and  ever,  when  my 
mind  goes  back  to  those  days  to  remember  my 
wrongs,  and  my  father's  wrongs,  and  my  enemy's 
face  rises  before  me — grant  that  at  the  same  time  I 
may  remember  the  words  and  the  face  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth ! " 

Adnah  rose  to  his  feet,  and  helped  Iddo  from  the 
ground.  The  Pharisee  was  sobbing.  "There  is 
this  more,"  said  Adnah;  "  can  you  forgive  me  for 
what  I  have  done  to  you?" 

"It  is  not  for  you  to  ask  my  pardon,"  returned 
Iddo.  "It  is  for  me,  upon  the  ground,  to  implore 
you  to  forgive  my  wickedness." 

"Iddo,  you  are  forgiven,  as  freely  as  if  you  had 
never  done  wrong!  "  Adnah  put  his  hand  upon  the 
man's  shoulder,  and  bending  forward,  kissed  him. 

When  Iddo's  voice  was  more  sure,  he  said,  "I 
will  go  up  to  Jerusalem  at  once.  I  will  seek  Pilate, 
and  tell  him  the  truth.  Your  father  shall  be  free 
once  more.  In  his  place,  I  will  bear  captivity  with 
out  a  murmur.  This  little  I  can  do,  to  repair  the 
past.  This  little  I  will  do  for  the  goodness  you 
have  shown.  Life  seems  all  changed  since  an 


Alone  With  His  Enemy  161 

enemy  has  blessed  me!  Strange  that  I  owe  my  life 
and  your  kindness  to  Jesus,  Him  whom  I  sought  to 
kill  in  Nazareth!" 

"Ah,  Iddo,  how  could  you!" 

"It  was  His  doctrine  I  despised.  Listening  to 
the  sermon  hardened  my  heart.  But  seeing  it  lived 
out  in  a  human  life,  has  softened  my  soul.  Fare 
well,  dear  boy.  Blessings  be  with  you!  " 

"Nay,"  said  Adnah,  "I  will  help  you  through 
the  desert,  for  you  are  weak." 

"This  also!"  cried  Iddo,  and  he  began  to  weep 
again.  Adnah  put  his  arm  about  him,  and  the  two 
went  forth  into  the  moonlight.  Adnah  raised  his 
face,  and  there  was  a  light  upon  it  more  dazzling 
than  that  of  the  moon. 

"  Iddo,"  he  whispered,  "  this  is  the  happiest  night 
of  my  life!  " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  CENTURION'S  SLAVE 

WHEN  Iddo  was  safe  in  the  narrow  streets  of 
Capernaum,  Adnah  left  him,  and  returned  to  the 
first  cave.  The  work  of  a  few  hours  would  liber 
ate  Simon  the  leper,  and  this  last  labor  the  work 
men  refused  to  do,  because  they  feared  a  nearer 
approach  to  the  imprisoned  man.  Adnah  could 
have  freed  him  some  hours  earlier,  had  he  not  been 
engaged  in  a  terrible  struggle;  this  was  a  battle 
against  his  desire  for  vengeance.  After  listening  to 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  he  had  left  Gothinus  to 
lose  himself  in  the  vast  throng.  But  it  was  as  if  he 
walked  alone.  In  his  mind  two  thoughts  fought 
for  supremacy;  that  of  Iddo,  that  of  Jesus.  It  was 
as  if  the  Friend  of  Man  had  placed  his  hand 
upon  Adnah's  enemy.  Jesus  conquered.  When 
ever  the  remembrance  of  the  Pharisee's  villainy 
threatened  to  become  dominant,  Adnah  seemed  to 
hear  these  words  repeated:  "Love  your  enemies, 
bless  them  that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that 

hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  who  despitefully  use 

162 


The  Centurion's  Slave  163 

you  and  persecute  you;  that  you  may  be  the  chil 
dren  of  your  father  who  is  in  heaven." 

Wonderful  hour  that  heard  these  words  spoken 
in  the  world!  Wonderful  words,  such  as  had 
never  before  been  spoken,  the  significance  of  which 
had  never  entered  the  mind  of  man!  Wonderful 
words  which  still  ring  muffled  in  the  unheeding 
ears  of  mankind,  their  meaning  lost,  or  veiled  so 
deeply,  the  light  breaks  not  through;  which  yet 
contain  the  power  to  revolutionize  the  world,  and 
make  it  new.  And  still  man  builds  up  innumerable 
theories  of  happiness,  upon  the  wrecks  of  former 
theories,  still  he  looks  for  a  golden  key  to  unlock  a 
golden  future,  blind  to  the  path  that  has  already 
been  pointed  out,  and  to  the  key  which  has  been 
given. 

It  was  nearly  morning  when  Simon  was  liber 
ated.  Adnah's  first  impulse  was  to  rush  to  him 
with  extended  arms.  But  he  remembered  in  time; 
and  as  if  divining  his  intention,  the  latter  exclaimed 
hastily,  "  Unclean!  "  Then  he  crept  forth  from  the 
cave. 

"You  have  not  suffered  from  hunger?"  Adnah 
asked. 

"No,  dear  friend.  Nay,  come  no  closer.  Ah, 
how  sweet  smells  the  world!  " 

"  Here  is  cool  fresl,  water,"  said  Adnah.     "  How 


164  Adnah 

my  heart  beats  to  see  you  free  once  more!"  And 
presently  he  had  told  his  adventures,  beginning 
from  the  time  he  leaped  across  the  abyss. 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  still  dark,"  said  Simon.  "  I  wish 
you  to  leave  me  before  it  is  day.  Try  to  think  of 
me  as  if  I  were  no  leper.  Adnah,  never  seek  me 
again;  let  the  remembrance  of  me  lie  clean  and 
fresh  in  your  memory.  But  what  of  Iddo?" 

"This  night  I  loosed  him  from  his  bonds  and 
turned  him  free." 

"  Ah  ?  But  what  did  you  first  to  him  ?  Lop  off 
an  arm,  or  leg?  Put  out  his  eyes?  You  do  not 
deceive  me  by  saying  you  turned  him  free!  You 
terrible  one,  I  know  you  well." 

"  It  is  true  I  did  something  to  him." 

"Ha!     What  said  I?    Let  us  hear." 

"I  blessed  him,  I  did  good  to  him,  I  prayed  for 
him,  and  1  sought  to  love  him." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  then  Simon  said,  "You 
do  not  speak  as  if  you  jested.  It  is  rather  as  if  you 
had  lost  your  mind,  Adnah." 

"I  care  not  what  I  have  lost.  What  I  have 
found,  O  Simon,  is  a  peace  that  passes  all  under 
standing.  I  heard  Jesus  speak  to  the  multitude. 
Yes,  He  spoke  to  them,  but  every  word  was  for  me, 
for  me,  the  outcast,  the  despised.  When  He  spoke 
of  love,  it  was  for  me,  whjn  of  an  enemy,  He 


The  Centurion's  Slave  165 

meant  Iddo;  when  He  said  '  Blessed  are  the  merci 
ful,' — yes  those  were  His  very  words, — He  was 
looking  into  my  heart;  when  He  said  '  Blessed  are 
they  who  mourn,'  it  was  as  if  He  had  wiped  away 
my  tears.  When  He  taught  us  to  pray  to  God 
thus, — 'Our  father,' — He  remembered  that  I  had 
been  deprived  of  my  own  dear  father;  and  when 
He  said  it  was  wrong  to  require  an  eye  for  an  eye, 
He  was  reading  my  wicked  purposes.  It  was  all 
for  me, — every  word.  Few,  indeed,  have  been  the 
chances  I  have  had  to  hear  men  expound  their 
doctrines.  But  on  those  few  occasions,  it  was  as  if 
the  speakers  said,  'Why  are  children  fetched  hither 
to  stare  gaping  at  the  moon  ?  These  words  be  for 
gray  hairs!'  It  was  not  so  with  Jesus.  Though 
untaught  and  young,  I,  as  well  as  the  aged,  knew 
His  meaning." 

"  A  strange  pass  indeed,  if  we  are  not  to  hate  our 
enemies,"  said  Simon.  "Whom  then  are  we  to 
hate?" 

"No  man,  I  think,  dear  Simon." 

"What,  then,  are  we  to  do  with  this  great  ac 
cumulation  of  hot  passions  and  indignant  heat  that 
surges  in  our  natures,  like  volcanoes  that  seek  a 
crater?"  demanded  Simon.  "  You  yourself  know 
that  where  we  love  one  man,  we  hate  ten." 

"I  have  thought  of  that,  Simon.     Perhaps  it  is 


166  Adnah 

this;  hate  the  evil  men  do,  and  hate  it  so  much 
that  there  will  be  no  hatred  to  spare  for  the  doers 
of  the  evil." 

"These  are  curious  theories,"  said  Simon,  "and 
I  confess  they  are  better  suited  to  the  disposition  of 
my  son  Lazarus,  than  to  mine.  But  beside  these 
fancies,  let  me  place  a  fact,  this;  that  Iddo  will 
surely  put  an  end  to  you  and  your  fancies  at  the 
first  merry  chance!  So  beware  of  him!  Now 
leave  me,  for  it  begins  to  grow  light.  Farewell 
forever,  my  friend.  It  has  been  sweet  to  know 
you,  and  to  have  a  little  company  once  more, 
though  entombed  in  a  cave.  Beware  of  Iddo! 
Leave  me,  now, — my  courage  fails." 

When  the  morning  came,  Adnah  went  to  the 
centurion's  to  bid  Gothinus  farewell,  as  he  intended 
to  set  forth  for  Jerusalem  to  seek  his  father.  He 
was  dismayed  to  learn  that  Gothinus  had  been 
suddenly  smitten  with  paralysis.  Lucius  admitted 
Adnah  to  the  chamber,  and  these  two  watched  be 
side  the  pallid  form,  for  the  Roman  dearly  loved  his 
slave.  It  was  strange  how  soon  his  robust  health 
had  vanished.  Shaken  by  the  palsy,  wracked  by 
agony,  he  lay  a  ghost  of  his  former  self. 

When  Adnah  would  have  left,  Lucius  said,  "Nay, 
he  loved  you;  stay  and  wait  upon  him,  and  this  shall 
be  your  home." 


The  Centurion's  Slave  167 

Adnah  remembered  Jesus.  At  mention  of  His 
name  Lucius  started  up.  "  It  is  the  only  hope,"  he 
said,  "since  the  physician  despairs." 

In  order  to  increase  his  hope,  Adnah  hurriedly  re 
lated  how  Jesus  had  healed  Reuben.  The  centurion 
sought  out  the  elders,  and  sent  them  to  the  Naza- 
rene.  Although  the  centurion  was  a  Gentile,  the 
Jews  were  ready  to  become  his  envoys,  since 
Lucius  had  built  for  them  their  synagogue,  and  had 
ever  shown  a  partiality  to  their  religion.  Lucius  re 
turned  to  Adnah  in  the  sick-room.  "The  elders 
have  gone,"  he  said.  "Presently  they  will  be  at 
the  house." 

He  seated  himself,  but  a  shriek  from  Gothinus 
caused  him  to  spring  up  shuddering.  After  that 
cry  the  slave  lay  still  and  white.  "  He  is  dying!  " 
Adnah  wailed.  "  Is  he  not  already  dead  ?" 

"Nay,  he  breathes.  Now  they  must  be  with 
Jesus.  But  how  can  I  bear  this  uncertainty!  I  will 
go  to  meet  Him,  to  plead  with  Him.  Alas,  Adnah, . 
were  I  a  Jew!  I  am  not  worthy  to  appear  before  a 
prophet  of  that  exalted  race.  Their  God  is  the  true 
God,  and  all  others  are  false.  Ah,  if  I  were  a  Jew, 
how  I  could  love  that  God,  and  this,  His  prophet!  " 

"  Go  to  Him,  my  lord,"  cried  Adnah.  "  I  do  not 
believe  He  will  turn  away  from  you,  although  you 
are  a  Roman." 


1 68  Adnah 

"Do  you  not,  Adnah?  You  are  a  Jew;  you 
should  know.  Will  He  hear  me,  think  you  ?" 

"  I  know  He  will.  Jesus  will  hear  all  who  sor 
row;  yes,  and  He  knows  how  to  comfort  them, 
too." 

"  But  what  can  I  say  to  Him  ?  Yes,  I  will  go,  for 
Gothinus  is  about  to  die;  1  can  do  this  for  him.  I 
will  say  to  Jesus,  '  Trouble  not  yourself  to  come  to 
my  house,  I  am  not  worthy  for  you  to  enter  under 
my  roof.  Even  as  I  have  authority  over  my  serv 
ants,  saying  to  one,  'Go,'  and  he  goes,  even  so 
have  you  authority  over  fell  diseases,  and  evil 
thoughts  and  cruel  despair.'  And  I  will  say,  '  Speak 
but  one  word,  it  will  be  enough, — my  servant  shall 
recover.' " 

"He  will  hear  you,  O  my  lord;  hasten  for  the 
sake  of  Gothinus! " 

Adnah  was  left  beside  the  stricken  slave,  but 
great  was  his  hope.  Gothinus  presently  opened  his 
eyes,  and  they  fell  upon  Adnah.  The  slave  smiled. 

"I  have  had  a  pleasant  dream,"  he  said,  lying  still, 
as  if  to  keep  it  from  slipping  entirely  away.  "I 
was  in  such  a  beautiful  place, — yet  now,  I  cannot 
remember  if  there  were  flowers,  or  birds.  And 
some  one  told  me  that  in  that  place  were  no  Goth- 
ini,  nor  Jews,  nor  Romans;  but  all  were  brothers, 
children  of  one  father." 


The  Centurion's  Slave  169 

"You  are  much  better!"  cried  Adnah  joy 
ously. 

"Better?  Nay,  I  am  well!"  And  when  Lucius 
returned,  they  met  him  at  the  door.  The  centurion 
caught  Gothinus  in  his  arms  and  embraced  him, 
while  his  eyes  glowed. 

"  What  said  Jesus  ?  "  Adnah  inquired. 

Lucius  answered  in  a  tone  that  rang  with  exulta 
tion.  "  He  said  He  had  not  found  such  great  faith 
in  all  Israel! " 

The  next  day  Adnah  set  forth  for  Jerusalem, 
seated  upon  a  mule,  the  gift  of  Lucius.  He  was 
alone,  but  his  heart  sang  to  bear  him  company. 
For  was  he  not  to  see  once  more  his  father  ?  Yes, 
and  he  would  plead  for  Iddo's  release  from  volun 
tary  captivity.  He  had  learned  that  Iddo  had  al 
ready  set  out  for  the  capital  of  Judea.  Adnah  did 
not  wish  to  overtake  him,  therefore  he  traveled 
leisurely.  The  first  night  he  put  up  at  a  quiet  cara 
vansary,  and  the  next  morning  resumed  his  way 
with  a  merry  heart. 

A  man  who  had  reached  the  open  inn  the  night 
before,  set  forth  at  the  same  time.  He  was  a  mid 
dle-aged  man,  with  a  long,  black  beard,  a  broad 
and  open  countenance,  cheerful  eyes,  and  a  manner 
of  walking  as  if  he  would  make  all  mankind  his 
friend.  Adnah  was  so  drawn  towards  him,  that  he 


170  Adnah 

let  his  beast  walk.  "  Go  you  far  upon  this  road  ? " 
he  asked. 

"To  Jerusalem,"  said  the  man  with  a  smile,  as  if 
there  were  so  much  sunshine  in  his  heart,  he  did 
not  have  to  hoard  it  up. 

"Why,  so  also  go  I  thither,"  cried  Adnah. 
"  Why  cannot  we  go  in  company  ?  " 

"Your  wish  is  a  jewel  in  the  setting  of  my  de 
sire!  "  the  pedestrian  declared. 

Adnah  laughed.  "Then  do  you  first  take  turn 
upon  the  mule!"  and  he  sprang  to  the  ground. 
"Ride  till  I  grow  weary, — and  I  promise  you,  that 
will  be  a  long  time  hence!  It  is  a  joy  to  walk  in 
the  world,  when  happiness  is  at  the  end  of  the 
way.  But  you  would  know  my  name;  Adnah." 

"Adnah  ?    Why,  surely,  I  have  heard  of  you!  " 

"  Doubtless;  for  my  story  has  gone  abroad.  And 
you, — what  name  do  you  bear  ?" 

"You  once  knew  me,"  said  the  other  with  the 
same  sunny  smile,  "as  Simon,  the  leper.  But 
since  our  parting,  I  have  seen  Jesus!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   GLADIATOR 

JOEL  hired  a  house  in  Jerusalem  befitting  his  dig 
nity.  Reuben  was  accepted  in  the  temple  to  do 
simple  service  and  learn  by  object-lessons  the  com 
plex  system  of  sacrifices  and  modes  of  worship. 
He  could  not  expect  to  be  admitted  into  the  Saddu- 
cean  priesthood, — the  vast  majority  of  the  priests 
were  Sadducees,  and  were  held  in  light  esteem  by 
the  learned  Rabbis, — until  he  should  become 
twenty, — how  long  that  period  of  waiting  seemed! 

In  the  meanwhile  Miriam  was  looking  about  her. 
Anna  made  it  a  strict  law  that  the  girl  must  not  go 
alone  into  the  streets;  Joel  added  the  clause  that  she 
might  venture  forth  in  the  company  of  old  Zuph. 
He,  himself,  sometimes  went  with  her,  for  he  knew 
the  city  well,  and  in  his  company  Miriam  was 
shown  the  temple,  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  the  palace 
of  Herod  and  all  the  wonders  of  Jerusalem.  Beau 
tiful  and  grand  stood  that  temple  perched  upon  its 
lofty  hill,  from  which  Solomon  and  all  his  glory 
had  passed  away.  So  many  years  the  wise  mon 
arch  had  labored  in  the  building  of  the  former 

171 


172  Adnah 

temple,  so  many  workmen  had  toiled  and  suffered 
with  its  brick  and  mortar  and  in  the  hewing  of  its 
cedar!  But  a  few  centuries  had  drifted  their  sands 
across  the  world;  monarch,  workmen,  bricks  and 
cedar  lay  buried,  and  the  new  temple  of  Herod 
stood  proudly  overlooking  Jerusalem,  in  its  turn  to 
fall.  Did  these  thoughts  haunt  Miriam  ? 

"Of  what  do  you  think,  my  daughter?"  Joel 
asked,  seeing  her  looking  up  from  the  Tyropoean 
Valley,  to  the  crowning  glory  of  Mount  Moriah. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Miriam,  "that  in  there  is 
Reuben."  What  to  her  was  Solomon  and  the 
passing  of  ages  ? 

And  there  was  the  magnificent  bridge  stretching 
from  Mount  Moriah  to  Mount  Zion,  that  holy 
mount  where  once  stood  the  palace  of  King 
David.  Gone  now  that  palace,  and  in  its  place 
the  frowning  castle  where  Pontius  Pilate  rules  the 
Jews  with  a  Roman  rod.  Even  the  bridge  that 
hangs  in  mid  air  is  not  the  one  which  knew  the  feet 
of  David  and  Bathsheba,  the  haughty  step  of  Absa 
lom,  the  passing  of  Joab  with  his  soldiers.  The 
power  of  David,  the  empire  he  consolidated  and  be 
queathed  to  a  wise  son, — all  are  crumbled  to  ruins, 
nothing  left  of  him  but  a  voice, — a  voice,  indeed, 
that  can  never  die.  But  will  not  all  this  in  its  turn 
pass  away,  this  material  majesty  and  beauty  ? 


The  Gladiator  173 

After  all,  the  most  transcendent  thing  a  man  can  do 
is  so  to  speak  that,  after  his  death,  his  voice  rings 
on,  rings  through  the  ages,  rings  true  to  the  har 
mony  of  eternal  truth. 

' '  Well,  my  daughter,and  now  of  what  do  you  think  ? 
For  your  eyes  seem  to  gaze  upon  great  things!  " 

"It  was  that  beggar  under  the  arch  of  the  bridge," 
said  Miriam;  "see,  he  is  blind!" 

The  next  day  Joel  went  up  to  the  temple,  and  left 
Miriam  in  the  care  of  Zuph.  "Whither  shall  we 
go?"  the  old  servant  asked. 

"To  the  bridge,"  said  Miriam.  The  beggar  was 
at  his  place,  for  the  arch  was  at  the  edge  of  the 
road.  The  man, — he  was  past  thirty, — sat  upon 
the  ground,  his  back  against  the  stone  pillar.  A 
stout  stick  lay  across  his  lap,  and  before  him  v/as 
his  cap,  in  which  already  lay  a  coin, — a  kind  of 
nest-egg,  to  show  passers-by  that  the  cap  was  a  nest. 

"  Here  is  a  coin  for  you,"  said  the  fresh  voice  of 
Miriam.  "  And  how  are  you,  to-day?" 

"  I  am  blind,"  said  the  man. 

"  How,  then,  do  you  find  your  way  hither?  " 

"  My  father  or  mother  conducts  me,  and  leads  me 
home." 

"  And  is  it  always  very  dark  to  you  ?  " 

"Dark?  I  have  often  heard  the  word.  But  I  do 
not  understand  what  it  means." 


174  Adnah 

"If  you  don't  know  when  it  is  dark,  or  when 
light,"  said  Miriam  in  wonder,  "being  blind  is  then 
not  so  terrible  a  thing,  after  all!  " 

"  Miriam,"  said  Zuph,  "  let  us  pass  on." 

"  I  know  this/'  said  the  beggar,  "  that  those  who 
are  not  blind  can  go  where  they  please,  without 
beating  a  stick  before  them,  and  can  handle  fire 
without  being  burnt,  and  can  tell  the  time  that  is 
called  day.  But  a  blind  man  can  only  beg." 

"  And  you  get  tired  sitting  all  alone,  do  you  not  ?  " 
inquired  Miriam, — "  everybody  passing  and  passing, 
— sounds  of  hoofs  and  feet  and  wheels,  and  shouts, 
and  music,  and  the  soldiers  marching, — and  you 
seeing  nothing! " 

"My  life  is  a  weary  one,"  said  the  man.  "  But 
I  must  sit  here,  or  at  the  temple  gate,  and  beg,  for 
otherwise  I  would  be  a  burden  to  my  parents." 

"  Miriam,"  said  Zuph,  "what  would  your  father 
think?  Or  Reuben!  Let  us  away!  Is  it  for  the 
daughter  of  a  nobleman  to  pause  and  converse  with 
blind  beggars  ?  " 

"Now,  good  Zuph,  forget  I  am  the  daughter  of 
a  nobleman,  and  remember  I  am  but  a  girl  with 
more  wonders  in  her  mind  than  there  are  in  Jeru 
salem.  Tell  me  your  name,  poor  man." 
*  "  It  is  Rinnah, — Heaven  bless  you  for  your  sym 
pathy!" 


The  Gladiator  175 

"I  have  a  thought,  Rinnah.  Would  you  like  to 
walk  ?  I  am  going  to  my  home.  If  you  follow 
behind  me,  I  will  steer  you  clear  of  dangers.  I  have 
already  given  you  more  money  than  you  could  get 
in  alms.  And  afterwards,  Zuph  shall  bring  you 
back  to  this  place  again,  and  you  will  not  be  lost. 
Now,  Zuph,  you  will  do  it!  Good  Zuph,  remember 
when  you  cut  your  finger  it  was  I  who  bound  it 
about  with  a  clean  fresh  cloth! " 

"If  you  did,  it  was  for  your  sake  I  cut  my  finger," 
said  Zuph,  "  trying  to  make  you  a  wooden  ball  to 
play  with, — and  served  me  right!  What  would  a 
girl  do  with  a  ball  ?  " 

"Oh,  Zuph!  I  like  that  ball  all  the  better  be 
cause  I  am  a  girl.  Come,  follow,  Rinnah,  for  when 
Zuph  scolds,  he  is  about  to  consent." 

"I  am  worried  beyond  my  judgment!"  ex 
claimed  Zuph.  "To  have  a  blind  beggar  trailing 
behind  us,  as  if  we  were  a  triumphant  army,  bring 
ing  home  a  captive!  But  Miriam,  who  is  that  ?  He 
comes  this  way.  Surely  — 

"It  is  Adnah!  "  cried  Miriam. 

"  Why,  so  I  thought,"  exclaimed  Zuph,  staring  at 
the  one  approaching  who  had  not  yet  discovered 
them.  "  He  rides  a  goodly  mule !  What  think  you, 
Miriam  ? — he  has  spread  abroad  the  story  that  Iddo, 
the  great  Pharisee,  did  seek  to  entomb  him  in  a  cave 


176  Adnah 

with  Simon,  the  leper!  And  Iddo  does  not  appear, 
to  contradict  the  story." 

"Iddo?"  repeated  the  blind  beggar.  "  He  gave 
me  alms  yesterday;  1  heard  him  say  he  had  just 
come  up  to  Jerusalem." 

"If  he  gave  you  alms,"  said  Zuph,  "we  know 
well  he  had  some  one  with  him  to  see  him  do  it! 
But  I  wonder  what  will  happen  when  he  meets  his 
nephew  and  hears  the  tale  he  has  told  ?" 

"Do  you  not  believe  Adnah's  story  ?"  said  Mir 
iam.  "Iddo  must  either  confess  the  truth,  or  hide 
with  shame." 

"I  cannot  imagine  him  doing  either,"  said  Zuph. 

"What  a  hurry  he  is  in!"  exclaimed  the  girl. 
"  Oh,  Zuph,  I  fear  he  will  pass  without  seeing  us." 

"And  what  then  ?  "  returned  the  old  slave. 

"Oh,  call  him,  Zuph !  It  would  be  a  pity  for  him 
to  pass  and  never  know  friends  were  so  near." 

"Why,  where  are  his  friends?"  inquired  the 
other  somewhat  sharply.  "  You  have  seen  him  but 
once,  and  then  only  through  a  crack  in  the  wall." 

"Adnah!"  cried  Miriam. 

He  was  almost  abreast  of  the  little  group,  but 
his  eyes  had  been  fixed  upon  the  distant  road. 
Now  he  started  violently  and  turned  his  head. 

"Oh,  Miriam!"  he  cried,  leaping  to  the  ground  as 
soon  as  he  could  check  the  mule.  He  approached, 


The  Gladiator  177 

his  face  beaming.  "Gothinus  saved  me,  and  he 
told  me  it  was  you  who  sent  him." 

"  We  must  not  detain  you,"  said  the  old  man. 

"I  thought  I  would  call  you,"  said  Miriam  tim 
idly;  "I  wanted  you  to  know  there  were  good 
wishes  for  you  here  in  the  street." 

"  It  was  so  like  you,  Miriam!  You  are  not  one 
to  let  a  friend  pass  without  a  kind  word.  And  you 
are  my  friend,  Miriam!" 

"Not  so,  not  so!"  cried  Zuph.  "Miriam  can 
have  no  friend  who  does  not  enter  through  the 
door  of  her  father's  approval.  If  she  sent  Gothinus 
to  save  your  life,  thank  her  and  go  your  way,  lad; 
for  if  your  path  through  the  world  runs  east,  hers 
runs  due  west.  Or,  if  yours  runs  west " 

"Old  man,"  cried  Adnah,  "would  you  rob  me  of 
the  only  flower  my  life  has  known  ?  That  is  the 
thought  of  Miriam,  which  has  never  faded  from 
want  of  care  and  nurture.  Oh,  Miriam,  say  you  do 
not  despise  me  as  all  the  world  despises,  because  my 
father  is  a  slave.  Say  you  do  not  shrink  from  me 
even  because  he  is  thought  to  have  been  crucified 
as  a  thief;  tell  me  I  may  always  think  of  you  as  my 
friend." 

Miriam  caught  his  hand,  which  he  had  not  dared 
hold  out  to  her,  and  clasped  it  a  moment  in  both  of 
hers.  "If  the  thought  of  me  is  a  flower  in  your 


1 78  Adnah 

life,"  she  said,  smiling  upon  him,  "  may  it  grow 
and  bloom  there,  always!  " 

"Although  I  am  a  blind  beggar,"  spoke  up  Rin- 
nah,  "I  can  see  when  two  fish  are  caught  in  the 
same  net." 

"What  does  he  mean?"  asked  Miriam,  dropping 
Adnah's  hand. 

"I  mean  two  hearts,"  Rinnah  explained.  Miriam 
blushed  scarlet. 

"You  have  heard  what  has  befallen  me,"  said 
Adnah  hastily,  seeking  to  overcome  her  sudden 
embarrassment.  "  But  you  have  not  heard  the  best. 
Iddo  has  confessed  that  it  was  he  who  stole  the 
money,  and  my  father  assumed  the  guilt  to  spare 
him.  My  father  was  not  crucified,  but  is  a  slave  in 
the  palace  of  Caius  Marcellus.  I  go  to  him, — that 
is  my  errand, — the  only  cause,  I  am  sure,  that  could 
ever  have  led  me  past  you  in  the  street,  blind  to 
your  presence.  Oh,  I  shall  soon  see  my  father! 
And  Iddo,  doubtless,  has  already  gone  to  Pilate 
with  his  true  history.  My  father  will  soon  be 
free,  free,  Miriam !  Are  you  not  glad  for  me  ?  " 

"  So  glad!  "  said  Miriam,  with  downcast  eyes. 

"Look  up,  friend  Miriam,"  said  Adnah  gently. 
"You  do  not  mind  the  words  of  a  blind  beggar. 
Look  up  and  let  me  see  my  happiness  in  your  eyes 
before  I  go." 


The  Gladiator  179 

Miriam  looked  up  an  instant  and  met  his  gaze, 
but  the  words  of  Rinnah  came  to  her  afresh.  She 
dropped  her  head,  seeking  to  hide  the  surging  color 
over  which  she  had  no  control.  Tears  came  to  her 
eyes.  "Come,  Zuph!"  she  said  hurriedly,  "father 
will  wonder  why  I  am  gone  so  long.  Good-bye, 
Adnah;  indeed  I  am  glad  for  you.  Hurry  now, 
Zuph!" 

"  The  time  for  hurry  was  at  the  other  end  of  this 
meeting,"  grumbled  old  Zuph.  "  But  come!  " 

Adnah  in  great  distress  mounted  his  mule,  feeling, 
with  a  sad  sinking  of  the  heart,  that  his  absence 
would  relieve  "  friend  Miriam." 

Miriam  and  Zuph  started  homeward,  the  girl 
walking  rapidly,  her  head  still  downcast.  Presently 
she  heard  the  voice  of  Rinnah;  "  No  one  has  a  care 
for  me.  Take  me  back  to  the  bridge,  lady,  do  not 
leave  me  in  the  road  alone." 

"I  forgot  you,"  said  Miriam,  running  to  his  side. 
"Here  is  my  hand.  But  you  were  a  wicked  man 
to  say  those  words.  And  do  not  call  me,  'Lady.' 
I  am  yet  but  a  girl,  so  young, — I  do  not  understand 
you  when  you  speak  as  you  spoke  to  Adnah." 

"I  thought  you  would  like  it,"  said  Rinnah 
simply.  "I  only  meant  to  make  you  smile.  I 
thought  you  and  the  young  man  were  lovers." 

"  But   I   am   only   a  girl, — a  girl,  Rinnah.     Oh, 


180  Adnah 

Rinnah!  do  not  say  such  hateful  words,  or  I  will 
lead  you  back  to  the  bridge,  and  not  take  you  to 
my  home,  where  1  meant  to  give  you  so  happy  a 
day." 

"Forgive,  forgive!"  cried  the  beggar  in  distress. 
"  How  could  I  know  you  would  feel  thus?  You 
are  the  first  lady  I  ever  knew  who  thought  'Love' 
a  hateful  word." 

"  But  I  am  not  a  lady;  it  will  be  years  and  years 
before  I  am  grown;  I  do  not  mean  to  be  a  lady  un 
til  I  am  old, — 50  old!  And  now  I  am  but  a  girl. 
Zuph,  tell  him  I  am  just  a  child,  for  remember,  he 
is  blind." 

"  She  is  taller  than  I,"  said  Zuph  drily,  "  and  she 
is  fifteen  years  old,  and  she  stops  young  men  in  the 
street  who  talk  to  her  about  her  eyes.  You  can 
make  of  that  what  you  please.  But  I  know  this 
very  well;  I  shall  take  her  no  more  about  these 
streets  till  we  have  come  to  an  agreement  touching 
young  men  and  blind  beggars.  As  to  her  being  a 
flower  in  anybody's  life,  that  is  a  piece  with  her  be 
ing  called  an  angel.  You  can  make  of  it  what  you 
please.  But  as  for  me,  I  am  an  old  man  and  have 
my  duty,  which  is  to  guard  this  lady,  damsel  or 
girl,  as  you  please  — 

The  old  man  stopped,  not  because  his  breath  or 
irritation  had  failed,  but  because  he  was  startled  by 


The  Gladiator  181 

an  approaching  tumult.  The  disordered  sounds 
drew  nearer. 

"  Look,  look!  "  cried  Miriam,  forgetting  her  tears. 
"They  come  this  way, — what  a  multitude!  Oh, 
we  shall  be  trampled  underfoot!  " 

"Alas,  alas!"  cried  the  blind  beggar,  grasping 
her  hand  more  securely. 

"And  look  the  other  way!  "  cried  Zuph  in  terror. 
"Roman  soldiers,  hurrying  to  meet  the  mob! 
We  shall  be  caught  between  the  two  forces." 

Zuph  had  clearly  foreseen  what  must  happen. 
From  the  direction  of  Miriam's  home  advanced  a 
fierce  mob  composed  of  Jews  armed  with  staves 
and  knives;  their  faces  were  wild  with  the  light  of 
patriotism, — or  fanaticism;  from  their  throats  burst 
harsh  cries, — "Down  with  the  tyrants  of  Rome! 
Down  with  Pilate!  Up,  up,  brave  Judeans,  fight 
for  your  God  and  your  liberty!  Barabbas,  Barabbas, 
forever!"  As  they  rushed  along  the  road  they 
were  joined  by  a  few  Jews,  but  others  ran  away  as 
if  to  escape  the  contagion  of  revolution.  Irresolute 
faces  looked  from  doors  along  the  way,  to  see  what 
would  be  the  issue. 

Behind  Miriam  and  her  companions  came  the 
Roman  soldiers  in  regular  array,  as  if  pushed  for 
ward  by  a  single  hand.  The  sides  of  the  road 
were  hemmed  in  by  high  smooth  stone  walls  that 


182  Adnah 

ran  under  the  bridge.  Zuph  groaned  with  despair; 
there  was  no  means  of  flight.  At  the  head  of  the 
mob  was  a  man  of  towering  stature,  his  face 
lighted  by  the  fire  of  enthusiasm.  He  was  Bar- 
abbas. 

"How  much  longer,  O  countrymen,"  he  cried, 
"will  you  lie  prostrate-  with  the  Gentile  foot  upon 
your  neck?  Remember  Judas  the  Zealot!  Re 
member  the  Maccabeans!  Remember  the  former 
glory  of  Zion!  Remember  that  these  who  approach 
would  keep  us  slaves  forever!  Remember  the  his 
tory  of  our  race  and  the  bondage  of  our  children,— 
and  forward! " 

The  stone  wall  formed  a  concave  deflexion  on 
either  side  of  their  course  under  the  bridge.  Zuph 
hurried  Miriam  into  one  of  these  doubtful  protec 
tions,  while  Rinnah  followed  closely.  Scarcely  had 
they  secured  this  position  when  the  soldiers  swung 
by,  an  organized  unit,  and  just  beyond  the  bridge 
encountered  the  frenzied  rush  of  the  mob.  The 
first  onslaught  of  the  men  under  Barabbas  was  so 
furious  that  it  drove  the  Romans  back  under  the 
bridge. 

"Out  of  my  way!  "  cried  a  Roman  soldier,  falling 
back  with  drawn  sword.  Zuph  was  thrown  to  the 
ground.  Miriam  fell  upon  her  knees  and  bent  over 
him  for  his  protection.  Thus  kneeling,  she  looked 


The  Gladiator  183 

up  piteously  at  the  swaying  throng.  The  air 
rang  with  shouts,  death-cries,  and  the  clash  of 
arms. 

"What  have  we  here?"  cried  another  soldier. 
"  Is  this  a  place  for  women  ?  Oh,  it  is  only  a  Jew 
ess!  "  Back  and  forth  trampled  the  mailed  soldiery, 
while  their  huge  shields  clanged. 

' '  Barabbas !     Liberty ! "  cried  the  Jews. 

"Now,  soldiers,"  came  the  steady  voice  of  the 
centurion;  "once  more!"  A  stream  of  blood 
slowly  moved  its  sluggish  way  across  the  road  to 
wards  where  Miriam  crouched. 

"  Another  sword!  "  said  a  voice.  "  I  broke  mine 
on  a  Galilean's  skull!  " 

Another  laughed.  "Tough  heads,  these  Zealots! 
See  this  blind  beggar!  These  wretches  would  come 
for  alms  to  a  crucifixion!  " 

"Here,  beggar,  take  my  sword  and  help  us 
fight,"  said  the  first,  thrusting  his  broken  weapon 
into  Rinnah's  helpless  hand. 

The  Jews  renewed  their  desperate  charge. 

"Now,  soldiers,"  came  the  steady  voice  of  their 
officer,  "  remember  you  are  Romans!  " 

"Death  seize  you!"  hissed  a  veteran,  stumbling 
over  Miriam's  foot.  "Twice  have  I  circled  around 
you  and  missed  my  enemy."  He  raised  his  voice; 
"  Where  is  Pilate's  gladiator  ?  " 


184  Adnah 

"Here!"  answered  a  man  of  herculean  appear 
ance. 

"Hither!  This  girl,  old  man  and  beggar, — slay 
them  or  carry  them  hence;  they  confuse  the  men." 

As  the  gladiator  hurried  up  he  pushed  aside  a 
soldier  who  stood  in  his  way. 

"  Who  jostles  me  ?  "  snarled  the  other.  "  By  the 
deified  Augustus!  if  it  is  a  Jew " 

"It  is  a  Jew,"  said  the  gladiator;  "  what  then?" 

"Oh, — is  it  Sextus?    It  is  nothing,  then!" 

Sextus  reached  the  niche  in  the  wall.  "Here  is 
insolence!  "  he  said,  staring.  "  You  three  spoil  the 
sport.  Will  you  have  your  heads  lifted  off  ?" 

"  Have  pity!  "  sobbed  Miriam. 

"  Quick  then, — old  man,  climb  upon  my  back. 
Girl,  catch  your  breath."  He  caught  her  up  in  his 
powerful  arms  and  carried  her  towards  the  rear, 
crying,  "Make  way  in  the  name  of  Pilate!  I  am 
Sextus." 

A  great  feeling  of  safety  soothed  the  maiden  in 
those  powerful  arms.  "  The  poor  blind  man!  "  she 
murmured. 

"Make  way,  make  way!  "  shouted  Sextus.  "  Let 
the  blind  man  die  in  his  own  darkness.  Am  I  an 
elephant  to  carry  three  at  once?  In  Pilate's  name! 
Now!  here  we  are,  safe  as  may  be."  He  placed 
Miriam  gently  upon  her  feet  and  Zuph  dropped  be- 


The  Gladiator  185 

side  her.  "It  is  easy,  you  see.  Now,  say  there  is 
no  use  in  the  world  for  a  gladiator!  And  what  is 
this?  Behold,  the  blind  man.  Lo!  you  cannot 
kill  a  beggar.  Victory,  victory, — the  mob  flees, — 
Barabbas  escapes, — ah,  we  shall  have  him,  one 
day!"  The  Romans  swept  on  in  pursuit  of  the 
panic-stricken  Jews.  As  the  road  under  the  bridge 
was  deserted,  Rinnah  was  exposed  to  view  stand 
ing  beside  the  wall,  the  broken  sword  in  his  hand. 
"The  last  soldier!"  shouted  Sextus  with  a  great 
laugh;  "  he  sticks  to  his  post! " 

Miriam  ran  to  the  beggar  and  took  his  hand. 
"Here  I  am,"  she  said,  "did  you  think  I  would 
leave  you  ?  "  Zuph  had  sunk  upon  the  ground,  his 
strength  exhausted. 

Sextus  stood  beside  Miriam.  "I  am  waiting  for 
a  kind  word,"  he  said  with  his  genial  smile. 

"I  owe  you  my  life!"  exclaimed  Miriam. 
"  Come  to  my  home,  and  father  will  reward  you." 

"Nay,  girl,  no  one  can  reward  me  but  you." 

"lam  but  a  simple  maiden ;  I  own  nothing  of  value. " 

"Not  so,  maiden.  There  is  a  look  in  your  eye 
worth  all  your  father's  wealth.  Let  us  sit  here 
under  the  bridge  and  talk  until  the  old  man  is 
rested, — that  is  all  I  ask." 

They  sat  in  a  row,  the  old  slave,  the  blind  beggar, 
the  gladiator,  the  maiden. 


1 86  Adnah 

"What  an  assembly!"  cried  Sextus  with  his 
boisterous  laugh.  "  We  all  look  as  dirty  as  slaves, 
— and  as  happy  as  kings!  Nay,  never  mind  your 
torn  dress,  you  cannot  go  through  a  war  unscathed. 
What  is  your  name,  child?" 

"  Miriam." 

"Miriam?  Why,  I  like  the  sound;  yes,  it  is  a 
good  name,  it  will  do  to  call  by!  And  whence?'1 

"Capernaum,  Sextus."  She  called  his  name, — it 
was  a  sign  she  liked  him,  and  he  understood. 

"Capernaum?  What!  Then, — do  you  know 
one,  Iddo  ?" 

"  He  lives  next  door." 

Sextus  grew  excited,  while  Zuph  still  panted, 
showing  no  disposition  to  resume  his  journey. 
"Next  door,  Miriam?  In  that  case  perhaps, — yes, 

surely, Poof!  The  dust  has  choked  me. 

There  was — there  is — a  young  man " 

"Do  you  mean  Adnah  ?"  asked  Miriam,  looking 
brightly  at  the  gladiator.  Rinnah  dropped  the 
broken  sword,  and  a  blush  dyed  the  maiden's 
cheeks. 

"Perhaps  I  do,"  said  Sextus.  "Adnah,  you  say  ? 
I  believe  Adnah  is  what  Iddo  calls  him.  You  must 
have  seen  him,  since  he  lives  next  door." 

"Yes." 

"What  a  strange  world!  "  cried  Sextus,  clasping 


The  Gladiator  187 

his  hands  nervously.  "  If  I  had  cut  off  your  head, 
you  would  never  have  told  me  this!  You  have 
seen  him  more  than  once?" 

"  Yes,  Sextus." 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  he  is  a  very  ugly  youth,— 
a  miserable  pinched  nose — a  stuttering  voice — 
knocking  knees — leering  eyes — shambling  feet — 
ay,  Miriam  ?" 

"No,"  said  Miriam,  indignantly. 

Sextus  looked  at  her  wonderingly.  "What  has 
happened  ?  Your  words  have  grown  as  short  as  if 
I  were  a  beggar.  Surely  you  cannot  dislike  Adnah! 
yet  you  will  give  me  no  word  of  comfort,  though  I 
would  hear  all  the  good  that  might  be  said  of  him." 

Miriam  lifted  her  head  with  an  effort  and  shook 
back  her  hair  while  she  answered  with  a  flush, 
"He  is  very  handsome;  and  though  slender,  he  is 
as  straight  as  a  palm;  and  his  voice  is  like  music  in 
the  Temple;  and  I  like  him  as  my  dear  friend;  and 
the  thought  of  me  is  a  flower  in  his  life." 

Old  Zuph  groaned  deeply. 

"Heaven  bless  you!"  cried  Sextus,  and  tears 
rushed  to  his  eyes. 

"  Surely  you  know  Adnah,  also!"  cried  Miriam, 
forgetting  her  embarrassment  at  sight  of  the  tears. 

"I  know  Iddo,"  said  Sextus  hurriedly,  "and  he 
has  told  me  of  his  nephew — of  this  Adnah  who  has 


l88  Adnah 

been  received  into  favor  in  King  Herod's  palace.  I 
love  Iddo,  and  therefore  I  love  the  boy." 

"But  look!  but  look!"  cried  Miriam  suddenly, 
"yonder  comes  Adnah  now !  "  From  their  position 
they  could  see  the  road  at  the  point  where  it  turned 
to  cross  the  bridge.  Adnah  was  visible  one 
moment  before  the  sound  of  his  passing  mule  could 
be  heard  overhead.  Sextus  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands  till  the  rider  had  crossed  the  bridge.  Then 
he  rose  hurriedly. 

"Must  you  go?"  asked  Miriam  regretfully. 

"Yes,"  he  said  abstractedly,  "yes, — good-bye, 
Miriam, — good-bye.  Duty  calls  me  to  the  palace; 
duty — duty—  He  hastened  away.  Zuph  rose 

stiffly. 

"  What  a  strange  man !  "  exclaimed  Miriam,  look 
ing  after  the  retreating  form. 

"  Truly,"  said  Zuph,  "  any  man  is  strange  who  is 
both  Jew  and  gladiator!  A  singular  combination!  " 

"But  I  like  him,"  added  Miriam  gently. 

"  And  truly,  he  loves  Adnah !  "  observed  the  blind 
beggar  thoughtfully. 

"What  said  he  of  King  Herod's  palace?"  mut 
tered  Zuph  to  himself. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IDDO 

THUS  far  Iddo  has  hovered  dimly  in  the  back 
ground  of  past  scenes,  his  presence  rather  felt  than 
descried.  A  villain  is  more  endurable  in  the  life  of 
which  we  form  a  part,  than  in  the  history  of  a  life 
whose  leaves  we  turn,  helpless  to  wound  the  man 
there  painted,  with  the  shafts  of  our  indignation. 
But  the  time  has  come  to  look  into  Iddo's  soul  that 
we  may  better  understand  the  story  of  Adnah.  We 
have  seen  his  shadow;  let  us  scrutinize  the  man. 

Given  a  few  leaves  from  the  childhood  of  a  man, 
one  may  write  a  history  of  his  maturity.  When 
Iddo  was  a  boy,  he  and  his  brother  Samuel  dwelt 
with  their  father  in  Jerusalem.  Their  father  was  a 
Rabbi,  therefore  a  Pharisee,  and  saturated  with  all 
the  pride,  and  slave  to  all  the  rites,  of  his  caste. 
The  boys  never  knew  a  mother's  influence.  Iddo 
was  the  first-born,  the  pride  of  his  father's  heart, 
and  no  pains  were  spared  to  perfect  him  in  a 
knowledge  of  the  traditions  and  the  law.  But 
Samuel,  three  years  younger,  showed  a  hostility  to 

learning.     Having   deprived    himself  by   his  own 

189 


190  Adnah 

choice  of  the  only  legitimate  ambition  a  Pharisee 
could  entertain,  the  younger  lacked  a  motive  to  hold 
him  to  a  steady  course  of  life.  Willingly  he  would 
have  renounced  the  privileges  of  his  race,  if  he  could 
have  become  a  soldier;  but  alas!  a  Roman  is  born, 
not  made,  and  a  Jew  is  a  Jew  forever. 

Finding  time  hanging  heavily  upon  his  hands, 
Samuel  sought  to  lighten  its  burden  in  his  own  free 
way.  He  shunned  the  Temple  and  the  schools  and 
mingled  with  great  throngs, — the  common  rabble  so 
despised  by  his  father  and  brother.  His  father 
looked  upon  Samuel  as  a  disagreeable  incident  in  a 
life  devoted  to  learning.  Samuel  regarded  his  father 
as  a  rainy  day  when  one  desires  to  travel.  But  the 
boys  were  closely  knit  together,  as  most  dissimilar 
characters  may  be,  by  a  lonely  childhood. 

Samuel  had  two  objects  in  life;  the  first,  to  find 
amusement;  the  second,  to  enjoy  the  greatness  of 
his  brother.  And  Iddo  loved  Samuel  with  a  con 
descending  half-ashamed  affection,  as  if  he  felt  that 
his  love  should  have  known  better.  They  were 
young  men  when  the  revolt  of  Judas,  the  Galilean, 
struck  at  the  Roman  government.  Their  father  held 
secret  meetings  with  Judas  and  at  last  carried  his 
sons  to  Galilee  to  aid  in  stirring  up  the  Jews.  Tak 
ing  advantage  of  the  indignation  which  had  been 
aroused  against  the  Roman  Prefect,  Quirinus,  the 


Iddo  191 

revolutionists  embarked  upon  a.  sea  of  war,  to  find 
shipwreck  against  the  legionaries  of  the  Imperial 
government.  Judas  and  Iddo's  father  were  slain. 
Iddo,  one  of  the  wildest  enthusiasts,  succeeded  in 
hiding  from  the  authorities  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  engaged  in  battle.  His  protestations  of  inno 
cence  found  credence  because  Samuel,  who  had 
shown  no  sympathy  with  his  countrymen,  had 
openly,  and  in  defiance  of  the  custom  of  his  race, 
married  a  Samaritan. 

Iddo  hugged  his  secret  to  his  breast  while  his 
friends  and  kindred  were  falling  victims  to  the  ruth 
less  vengeance  of  the  Romans.  When  a  spy,  to 
test  him,  met  him  one  night  with  the  watchword  of 
Judas,  "  No  master  but  God! "  Iddo  retorted  in  his 
sonorous  voice,  "And  Tiberius!  " 

The  spirit  of  revolt  did  not  die  with  Judas  the 
Galilean.  Presently  a  new  leader  arose  who  em 
ployed  secret  methods.  His  name  was  Barabbas. 
Iddo  entered  into  communication  with  him,  and 
aided  in  weaving  an  intricate  network  of  plots. 
For  years  they  worked  in  the  dark  ever  with  the 
danger  of  crucifixion  hanging  over  them;  but  the 
fire  of  liberty  in  these  hearts  threw  all  dangers  into 
shadow.  Iddo's  life  of  scheming  reacted  upon  his 
character.  He  became  secret  in  private  life,  the 
generous  traits  of  his  disposition  were  consumed  by 


192  Adnah 

hidden  fires.  He  was  living  two  lives;  one  for  the 
observation  of  his  neighbors,  another,  as  he  thought, 
for  the  future  glory  of  his  race.  Thus  the  falsehood 
of  his  life,  which  he  imagined  devoted  to  religion 
and  patriotism,  was  built  upon  the  foundation  of 
hypocrisy  and  deceit. 

A  nation  cannot  be  rescued  by  love  alone.  There 
are  those  who  see  both  sides  of  a  question  in  the 
same  light,  until  the  gleam  of  gold  throws  one  side 
into  darkness.  Patriotism  and  enthusiasm  must  be 
bought,  but  whence  the  money?  Alas!  the  Rabbi 
is  not  allowed  to  charge  for  his  instruction;  even 
his  daily  wants  are  at  the  mercy  of  generous  friends. 
For  it  is  the  glory  of  a  Pharisee  to  be  always  poor, 
always  great.  It  is  the  hated  Sadducees  who  are 
known  for  their  material  prosperity,  their  holding 
of  lucrative  offices,  their  aspirations  to  the  high 
priesthood.  Money  must  be  had  before  the  power 
of  Rome  crushes  forever  the  spirit  of  God's  peculiar 
people. 

Whence  shall  this  necessary  money  come  ?  From 
that  very  iniquitous  taxation  which  defies  sacred 
liberty.  When  one  has  a  brother  who  is  at  the  re 
ceipt  of  custom,  and  who  holds  the  money-bags, 
may  not  means  be  found  of  sounding  the  capacity 
of  those  money-bags  ?  Is  not  this  money  extorted 
from  righteous  Jews  by  idolatrous  Gentiles  ?  This 


Iddo  193 

is  not  theft!  It  must  be  snatched  from  the  Roman's 
Publican,  though  one's  own  brother,  and  returned 
to  its  rightful  owners, — Barabbas  and  his  agents! 
This  does  not  make  Barabbas  a  robber,  but  a 
martyr.  Thus  Iddo  blinded  his  eyes,  called  evil 
deeds  by  fair  names,  and  committed  them  with  a 
smiling  conscience.  And  even  if  one's  brother  be 
punished  for  the  good  cause,  it  will  be  no  more 
than  his  desert,  when  one  remembers  his  baseness 
in  falling  in  love  with  a  pretty  face,  and  in  marry 
ing  the  owner  of  that  face, — her,  a  Samaritan,  hated 
of  all  true  Jews!  But  perhaps  Samuel  will  not  be 
suspected  !  Then  Iddo  committed  the  crime,  and 
hoped  for  the  best. 

When  Samuel  found  the  money  gone,  the  night 
after  he  had  shown  Iddo  its  place  of  concealment, 
he  almost  lost  his  mind  because  he  dared  not  trust 
its  logic.  White  and  terrible  he  sought  the  Phari 
see,  and  in  piteous  broken  tones,  told  how  some 
evil  spirit  had  visited  the  treasury.  But  Iddo,  in 
sudden  terror  at  sight  of  Samuel's  agony,  confessed 
the  truth.  "But,  oh,  my  brother,  it  is  for  the  glory 
of  our  poor  people.  Have  mercy  upon  us,  Samuel, 
we  are  very  near  success!  Liberty  hovers  over  the 
head  of  Barabbas.  Soon  he  will  reach  forth  his 
hand,  clutch  her  and  perch  her  upon  our  standard. 
Yonder  come  the  soldiers,  brother,  quick — promise 


194  Adnah 

to  deliver  us!  I  ask  this  not  for  myself,  but  for  my 
race, — for  my  God !  " 

Samuel,  with  his  simple  heart,  blinded  by  the 
brotherly  adoration  which  had  sweetened  his  life 
from  the  cradle,  consented  to  bear  the  blame,  if 
Iddo  would  promise  to  treat  Adnah  as  his  own  son, 
and  to  rear  him  to  be  a  great  Rabbi.  It  was  promised 
with  sincere  tears;  the  soldiers  came;  Samuel  van 
ished  from  Capernaum.  When  Iddo  gave  his 
promise,  he  meant  to  keep  it;  and  during  the  first 
days  of  Samuel's  disgrace,  he  was  tender  with  the 
child;  and  when  he  felt  tenderness  no  longer,  still, 
when  others  were  present,  Adnah  could  not  detect 
the  change.  We  are  ourselves  only  when  we  are 
alone;  Hamlet  is  not  Hamlet  when  conscious  of  an 
audience.  When  Iddo  was  alone,  his  conscience 
whispered  that  he  was  a  thief, — that  for  his  sake  a 
simple  heart  must  suffer.  As  he  realized  deeper 
and  deeper  the  misguided  heroism  of  Samuel,  his 
sentiments  towards  Adnah  darkened  from  indiffer 
ence  to  hatred.  For  Adnah's  sake  he  had  been 
spared  disgrace;  therefore  he  hated  the  boy.  This 
hate  became  a  monomania, — the  revenge  his  crime 
played  upon  him.  The  sight  of  the  pale  face,— 
pale  because  of  his  cruelty, — drove  Iddo  at  length 
to  the  attempt  upon  Adnah's  life. 

At  last  in  that  cave  where  the  stolen  money  had 


Iddo  195 

been  hoarded  and  where  other  ill-gotten  wealth  had 
accumulated, — at  last  came  Adnah  with  a  blessing, 
a  prayer,  a  kiss.  It  was  so  wonderful,  that  revela 
tion  of  love  from  an  enemy,  that  living  out  of  a 
divine  command,  that  every  motive  for  hatred, 
every  reason  for  hiding  his  guilt,  was  swept  from 
Iddo's  soul.  To  become  great  in  Israel  became  a 
thing  pitiably  small  and  weak,  beside  the  kindness 
of  the  youth  he  had  loathed.  When  Adnah  left 
him,  the  Pharisee  had  but  one  object, — reparation. 
He  put  Hodesh  aside  bluntly;  he  was  deaf  to  the 
questions  of  his  neighbors  as  he  hurried  from  Ca 
pernaum  upon  his  swiftest  mule.  If  he  should  die 
before  he  had  an  opportunity  to  confess!  Let  him 
but  be  spared  to  implore  the  pardon  of  his  brother, 
to  take  his  place,  and,  if  it  must  be,  suffer  death! 
Adnah's  prayer  echoed  day  and  night  in  his  ears, 
and  as  Jerusalem  drew  near,  he  thought  heaven 
drew  nearer. 

The  course  of  a  lifetime  is  seldom  changed  in  a 
moment.  Even  when  melted  by  Adnah's  kindness, 
Iddo  did  not  tell  the  truth  concerning  Samuel;  he 
was  not  known  as  Galba,  his  master  was  not  Gains 
Marcellus.  Samuel,  upon  being  dragged  to  the 
Holy  City,  had  escaped  crucifixion  to  become  a 
gladiator  of  Pontius  Pilate;  and  he  was  known  as 
Sextus. 


196  Adnah 

When  Iddo  rode  into  Jerusalem,  he  did  not  re 
pent  of  his  repentance,  but  he  feared  the  return  and 
mastery  of  his  old  self.  The  city  was  so  full  of 
fond  and  proud  memories!  Yonder  he  had  gone  to 
school  seeking  to  build  stairs  of  thought  to  great 
ness.  Here  he  had  stood  with  Barabbas,  making  a 
program  of  the  destinies  of  nations.  On  that  corner 
his  father  had  predicted  for  his  boy  great  things,  and 
in  that  market-place  he  had  prayed  long  prayers  for 
the  delectation  of  the  passers-by.  Iddo  turned  his 
bloodshot  eyes  from  one  familar  object  to  another, 
and  everywhere  was  the  sunshine  to  which  he  was 
about  to  bid  adieu, — everywhere  were  faces  he 
would  see  no  more.  But  Adnah  had  kissed  him ! 
And  at  last  he  was  about  to  free  himself  of  the 
horror  of  his  life, — the  thought  of  his  terrible 
wrong  to  Adnah's  father.  Giving  himself  no  time 
for  reflection  which  might  result  in  weakness,  Iddo 
hurried  to  the  palace  of  Pontius  Pilate, — the  castle 
of  the  Asmoneans,  which  looked  across  the  valley 
upon  the  temple.  Having  traversed  the  open  space 
before  the  magnificent  pile,  riding  along  embowered 
paths  from  which  one  caught  glimpses  of  sparkling 
canals  and  clear  lakes,  Iddo  was  halted  at  the  huge 
gates  of  the  Praetorium. 

"Stay,  Jew!"  said  the  gatekeeper  supercili 
ously. 


Iddo  197 

"I  must  see  the  Procurator,"  faltered  Iddo. 
"The  case  is  urgent." 

"  Are  you  not  Iddo,  the  Pharisee,  brother  of  Sextus, 
the  gladiator  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes — quick,  I  must  see  Pilate!" 

"The  brother  of  Sextus  is  not  admitted,"  said 
the  Roman  stolidly.  Iddo  stared,  breathless.  This 
was  the  first  time  he  had  been  refused  entrance. 

"Not  admitted  ?  But  I  must  be  admitted.  There 
is  a  matter  concerning  my  brother  which  must  be 
made  clear." 

"Does  a  Jew  say  'must'  to  a  Roman?"  sneered 
the  gatekeeper.  "  I  tell  you,  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  a  Pharisee,  if  you  are  found  here  disputing  my 
commands!  " 

"  But  why — but  why, — what  has  altered  my  com 
ing  and  going  ?" 

"It  is  this,  Iddo;  after  each  of  your  visits,  we 
find  Sextus  as  weak  as  a  woman.  Therefore 
the  sports  of  the  arena  are  delayed,  and  we  perish 
of  dulness  in  this  accursed  land  of  phylacteries  and 
money-sharks.  Away,  away,  or  you  will  be  cooled 
in  our  dungeons,  O  Iddo!  " 

Destiny  had  intervened  to  save  him.  Destiny — or 
God  ?  Was  not  this  the  finger  of  God,  pointing 
out  to  Iddo  his  true  duty, — to  work  for  his  race,  to 
give  his  life  for  his  people  ?  What  if  he  had  sue- 


1 98  Adnah 

ceeded  in  reaching  Pilate  with  his  story  ?  What  if 
he  had  been  crucified  and  the  gladiator  liberated  ? 
That  act  of  justice  for  the  sake  of  one  person  was 
nothing  compared  to  what  he  might  hope  to  accom 
plish  for  tens  of  thousands.  He  felt  he  had  been 
swayed  from  the  course  of  duty  by  a  kiss;  he  must 
be  strong  and  put  from  him  the  thought  of  Adnah's 
prayer  and  of  Samuel's  captivity.  Now,  when  he 
rode  the  street  and  felt  the  sunshine  bathing  his  per 
son,  his  heart  leaped;  it  was  his  sunshine, — his 
world!  The  horror  of  crucifixion  was  gone;  his 
heart,  freed  from  the  cage  of  fear,  soared  to  meet 
the  birds. 

At  a  turning  in  the  narrow  street  he  met  Barabbas. 
The  fierce  enthusiasm  of  the  revolutionist  re 
animated  the  fires  in  Iddo's  breast.  Liberty, 
liberty, — all  things,  whether  justice,  truth  or  virtue, 
must  become  slaves  to  the  idea  of  liberty !  As  he 
went  home  with  Barabbas,  he  reflected  upon  his 
future  course.  He  decided  nothing  definitely  re 
garding  Adnah;  he  knew  his  denial  of  Adnah's 
story  would  find  belief,  if  Gothinus  could  be 
silenced.  Simon,  the  leper,  was  not  to  be  feared, 
since  his  disease  isolated  him  from  the  companion 
ship  and  the  confidences  of  men.  No  one  would  listen 
to  Adnah,  the  obscure  one,  when  he  should  bring 
grave  charges  against  the  holy  and  celebrated  Iddo. 


Iddo  199 

But  Gothinus  ?  True,  he  was  a  slave  and  a  Gentile; 
but  his  master,  Lucius  would  believe, — and  Lucius 
was  a  great  man  in  Galilee.  The  thought  of 
Gothinus  tortured  Iddo  as  he  pretended  to  hear  the 
impassioned  words  of  Barabbas.  After  all,  it  must 
be  a  contest  between  the  Pharisee  and  the  Gothic 
slave.  Surely  the  Jews  would  espouse  the  cause  of 
Iddo.  Thus  Adnah's  uncle  entirely  renounced  the 
thought  of  reparation,  and  while  he  did  not  feel  that 
loathing  for  Adnah  which  had  brought  its  own 
punishment  during  many  years,  he  felt  fear,  even 
terror;  fear  because  Adnah  who  had  blessed  him, 
must  be  overcome;  terror  because  Adnah  who  had 
prayed  for  him,  must  in  some  way  be  crushed;  yes, 
must  be  crushed,  that  the  work  for  the  uplifting  of 
the  Jews  might  prosper.  Iddo  told  himself  that  if 
he  alone  could  bear  the  consequences  of  Pilate's 
anger,  nothing  could  prevent  his  atonement.  But 
if  he  were  torn  from  his  position  in  Galilee  a  hun 
dred  schemes  would  fall  to  the  ground;  and  since 
for  a  greater  cause  he  must  preserve  himself,  his 
heart  bounded  with  self-exaltation  because  he  could 
call  his  self-preservation  a  sacrifice. 

The  next  day  Iddo,  finding  that  Barabbas  intended 
to  make  open  revolt  in  the  city,  slipped  from  the 
conspirators  lest  he  be  brought  into  danger.  His 
nature  was  fitted  for  secret  machinations,  not  for 


2oo  Adnah 

heroic  daring.  As  he  wandered  afoot  along  familiar 
ways,  suddenly  he  saw  a  form  ahead  of  him  which 
caused  him  instinctively  to  crouch  in  a  low  doorway. 
It  was  Adnah,  riding  a  mule.  With  cautious  foot 
steps  Iddo  followed,  still  without  a  definite  course 
of  action  shaped  in  his  mind. 

Adnah  paused  and  accosted  a  stranger;  Iddo  heard 
him  inquire  the  way  to  the  palace  of  Caius  Mar- 
cellus.  He  was  seeking  his  father,  thinking  to  find 
him  a  slave,  as  Iddo  had  declared.  The  Pharisee 
had  given  Caius  Marcellus  as  Samuel's  master,  not 
from  any  deep-laid  plot,  but  because  his  nature  had 
forbidden  him,  even  in  the  hour  of  apparent  death,  to 
speak  the  truth.  There  was  a  Caius  Marcellus,  and 
he  possessed  a  palace;  the  name  had  flashed  upon 
the  captive's  mind,  and  he  had  spoken  it.  Now 
Adnah  would  go  thither,  he  would  inquire, — what 
would  happen  when  he  learned  that  the  slave 
"  Galba"  was  a  fiction?  Iddo  continued  to  follow 
silently. 

"  Ha,  Iddo!  afoot  !  "  exclaimed  a  voice;  "  where 
is  the  mule  you  rode  so  gallantly  yesterday  ?  " 

"Hail,  Joseph,"  said  Iddo  in  a  disturbed  voice, 
scarce  glancing  at  his  friend. 

Joseph  plucked  his  sleeve.  "The  reason  I  ask, 
friend, — just  now  I  met  a  young  man  riding  a  mule 
that  looks  like  yours, — see,  yonder  he  goes.  Now, 


Iddo  201 

finding  you  afoot  I  fear  there  may  be  an  evil 
deed." 

"It  is  Adnah!"  exclaimed  Iddo,  staring  after 
the  rider  as  if  he  had  for  the  first  time  observed 
him. 

"Adnah?  What!  that  nephew  you  so  often 
speak  of, — the  wicked  young  man  who  despises 
the  law  and  the  prophets,  and  who  reviles  you 
openly  ?  How  comes  he  in  Jerusalem  ?  Why  is  he 
here  ?" 

"Ah,  why  ?"  murmured  Iddo  striking  his  breast 
with  his  clenched  hand. 

"I  understand,  I  understand!"  said  his  zealous 
friend;  "but  you  shall  not  thus  be  hindered  by 
foolish  sentiment.  I  will  do  this  duty  for  you!" 
Then  raising  his  voice  he  shouted,  "A  thief!  Stop 
the  young  man.  He  has  stolen  his  master's  mule. 
He  has  slipped  from  home  and  come  to  the  city  to 
betray  his  masters  secrets!  " 

While  eager  hands  caught  Adnah's  bridle,  other 
Jews  flocked  about  Iddo.  "What!  is  it  true? 
Does  he  know  aught  of  our  plans,— of  Barabbas  ?" 

"I  tell  you  he  knows  everything!  "  cried  Joseph, 
as  Iddo  hung  his  head.  "  But  he  is  related  to  Iddo, 
therefore  this  weakness." 

"Related!"  shouted  several  voices  in  fierce 
wrath,  "  what  is  that,  when  you  weigh  our " 


2O2  Adnah 

"Hush!"  warned  Joseph.  "The  soldiers  are 
corning." 

"  A  thief,  a  thief!  "  cried  the  Jews,  fear  of  ex 
posure  giving  vehemence  to  their  denunciation. 
Adnah's  mule  had  been  forced  about,  and  now  he 
was  led  towards  Iddo.  Adnah  fastened  his  burning 
eyes  upon  his  uncle's  face. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  demanded  a  soldier  making  his 
way  to  Adnah's  side, — the  same  soldier  who  had 
forced  his  broken  sword  into  Rinnan's  hand. 
"  Speak  up,  Pharisee;  is  this  your  mule  ?  And  has 
he  stolen  it  ?  " 

Iddo  raised  his  head  and  stared  at  the  soldier  with 
glazed  eyes;  he  spoke  one  word  in  a  thick  voice; 
"  Yes!" 

"Oh,  Iddo,  Iddo!"  cried  Adnah  in  a  sharp  voice 
of  sudden  wonder  and  misery.  "  Look,  Iddo,  this 
is  not  your  mule!  It  was  loaned  me  by  Lucius  the 
centurion." 

"Shame,  shame!"  shouted  Joseph.  "Did  we 
not  see  Iddo  riding  that  mule  but  yesterday  ?" 

"  We  saw,  we  saw!  "  testified  the  throng. 

"Is  it  likely  that  a  centurion  lends  mules  to 
Jews  ?  "  sneered  a  warrior. 

"  Enough,"  said  the  merry  soldier,  bestriding  the 
animal  in  question;  "more  than  enough,  since  two 
witnesses,  only,  are  required.  Arrest  the  fellow, 


Iddo  203 

comrades,    and     as     for    me,    I    will    arrest    the 
mule!  " 

In  consideration  of  Adnah's  youth,  he  was  spared 
the  death  of  the  cross,  and  was  sold  to  a  Roman 
nobleman.  His  master  was  Caius  Marcellus. 


CHAPTER  XX 

DESPAIR 

CAIUS  MARCELLUS  had  come  to  Jerusalem  to  escape 
the  dangers  threatening  the  rich  of  the  Imperial 
City.  The  power  of  Sejanus  was  in  its  zenith,  and 
a  word  spoken  against  Tiberius  was  not  safe  in  the 
ear  of  a  brother.  But  Marcellus  found  life  in  Judea 
not  worth  the  security  it  insured;  his  heart  ever 
pined  for  Italy  and  for  the  luxury  without  which  a 
Roman  of  the  Empire  found  life  tasteless.  While 
meditating  a  return  to  his  native  land,  he  was  offered 
for  easy  purchase  a  great  estate  in  Sicily  which 
promised  an  extensive  income.  To  manage  such 
an  estate,  at  least  10,000  slaves  were  necessary,  and 
as  Marcellus  made  preparations  for  departure,  he 
looked  about  him  for  strong  arms  and  fleet  limbs. 
Adnah  appeared  desirable,  and  the  overseer  pur 
chased  the  youth  the  day  of  his  trial,  which  was  the 
day  of  the  knight's  departure  from  Jerusalem. 

Adnah  had  not  recovered  from  the  shock  of  horror 
at  his  uncle's  base  treachery,  when  he  learned  that 
Marcellus  had  no  slave  known  as  "Galba,"  and  had 

never  possessed  such  a  one  since  coming  to  Judea. 
204 


Despair  205 

He  sought  to  tell  his  story;  he  demanded  that 
Lucius  the  centurion  be  advised  of  his  unjust  cap 
tivity;  but  he  was  silenced  by  the  overseer  who  was 
seeking  slaves,  not  justice.  On  the  way  to  Caesarea 
he  was  fastened  by  the  waist  to  a  gang  of  slaves 
who  were  driven  forward  under  the  singing  of  the 
lash.  At  Cresarea  they  took  ship  for  Sicily  and 
Adnah  was  thrown  into  vile  quarters,  where  slaves 
of  many  nationalities  were  huddled  close  for  want 
of  room. 

During  the  long  voyage,  not  once  did  he  see  the 
face  of  Marcellus.  "As  many  enemies  as  slaves" 
was  the  Roman  saying,  and  Marcellus  had  no  desire 
to  view  his  valuable  enemies  close  at  hand.  The 
name  of  the  overseer  was  Scipio.  He  had  risen 
from  the  lowest  depths  of  slavery  by  industry  and 
cunning.  He  retained  the  good-will  of  his  master 
by  industry  and  cruelty.  The  fact  that  he  had  once 
belonged  to  a  gang  of  slaves  did  not  soften  his 
heart  towards  those  under  him.  Adnah  left  his 
country  a  prey  to  dull,  sullen  anger.  When  he  re 
membered  how  Iddo  had  lain  in  his  power  yet  had 
been  spared,  had  been  blessed  and  prayed  for,  had 
been  kissed  and  aided  to  walk  from  his  prison-cave, 
— then  recalled  the  day  of  the  arrest  and  Iddo's 
"  Yes,"  it  seemed  to  the  young  man  that  everything 
in  life  was  false  except  revenge.  He  could  not 


206  Adnah 

credit  Iddo  with  those  few  faint  efforts  towards 
virtue  which  had  proved  the  Pharisee  a  man  instead 
of  a  monster.  He  believed  his  uncle  had  all  the  time 
intended  to  consummate  his  ruin.  In  the  cave  Iddo 
had  given  "Galba"  as  his  brother's  assumed  name, 
Marcellus  as  the  master.  He  had  hurried  to  Jeru 
salem  there  to  await  his  victim.  He  had  gathered 
his  friends  in  the  street,  and  had  trained  Joseph  to 
play  his  part.  He  had  pretended  shame  and  hesita 
tion, — had  made  a  show  of  being  unwilling  to  ac 
cuse.  At  the  trial  he  had  hung  his  head,  looking  more 
guilty  than  the  prisoner.  Ah,  the  hypocrite!  Adnah 
despised  his  uncle  more  for  what  he  believed  a  pre 
tense  of  grief  than  for  the  beatings  of  his  childhood. 

It  was  Scipio's  policy  that  there  should  be  no  ties 
of  friendship  between  the  slaves.  Conversation 
was  forbidden,  and  in  this  enforced  silence,  Adnah 
brooded  over  his  wrongs,  seeing  no  help,  not  even 
the  hope  of  revenge.  Once  when  he  would  have 
exchanged  his  story  with  a  neighbor,  Scipio  discov 
ered  their  low  voices,  and  gave  both  a  terrible  flog 
ging.  Adnah  endured  the  torture  in  silence,  saying 
in  his  heart,  "This,  also,  I  owe  to  Iddo!" 

Many  a  time  there  came  the  thought  of  Miriam, 
but  it  was  as  the  thought  of  cool  waters  to  a  ship 
wrecked  sailor  who  perishes  of  thirst.  He  loved 
her  better  than  his  life, — how  gladly  he  would  have 


Despair  207 

died  for  her!  The  sound  of  her  voice  had  been  the 
music  of  his  boyhood.  Her  face  and  form  with 
their  varying  lights,  and  her  attitudes  as  she  rested 
upon  the  house-top  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  had 
formed  the  picture  gallery  of  his  life  of  dreams. 
The  three  days  when  she  had  talked  to  him  were 
three  golden  lamps  which  at  the  touch  of  mem 
ory  had  made  the  darkness  of  his  sorrows  disap 
pear.  Now  all  was  changed, — the  music  hushed, 
the  pictures  dim,  the  lamps  untrimmed.  Never  to 
see  her  again, — never!  to  toil  as  a  slave  till  death 
should  follow  upon  exhaustion  and  abuse,  without 
again  seeing  Miriam !  "This,  also,  I  owe  to  Iddo  !  " 
he  reflected. 

Like  most  of  the  great  Sicilian  estates,  that  of 
Marcellus  was  stocked  with  sheep.  Adnah  became 
a  shepherd.  The  home  of  the  master  stood  fifteen 
miles  from  the  sheepfold,  where  a  thousand  sheep 
were  shut  up  in  the  low  brick  ovile,  during  inclem 
ent  weather.  Each  shepherd  was  put  in  charge  of 
a  hundred  sheep,  given  a  dog  for  a  companion  and 
assistant,  and  sent  forth  to  live  as  he  might.  If  he 
did  not  choose  to  sleep  upon  the  ground,  he  must 
build  a  hut;  if  he  did  not  care  to  starve,  he  must 
plant  a  garden, — or  turn  brigand.  In  no  case  must 
he  draw  near  his  master's  residence;  in  no  case 
must  he  make  friendships  among  his  fellows, — the 


208  Adnah 

terrible  servile  wars  were  too  recent  in  the  memory 
of  Sicilians  to  risk  another  confederation. 

Adnah's  dog  was  a  huge  white  animal  which 
Scipio  had  purchased  from  a  distant  estate.  He  and 
Adnah  were  brought  together,  both  strangers  in  the 
midst  of  an  unknown  land.  He  called  the  dog, 
"Friend."  It  pleased  the  lonely  youth  to  give  that 
name  even  to  a  dog.  "Friend  "  was  one  of  those 
ferocious  creatures  which  from  time  immemorial 
have  helped  guard  the  sheep  of  the  Roman  Cam- 
pagna.  Fierce  as  the  wolves  which  continually 
menace  the  flocks,  the  white  breed  is  preferred  to 
distinguish  the  dogs  from  the  voracious  enemy.  At 
first  the  beast  was  kept  muzzled,  for  he  showed  a 
desire  to  rend  all  who  approached.  But  presently 
he  learned  that  one  from  among  the  strangers 
brought  him  meat  and  drink  day  after  day.  "  You, 
too,  have  been  stolen  from  your  home  and  carried  a 
slave  into  a  far  country,"  said  Adnah. 

The  dog  did  not  care  for  the  meat, — a  terrible  home 
sickness  gnawed  at  his  vitals ;  but  the  tone  of  Adnah's 
voice  stole  his  heart  away,  and  when  he  heard  that 
voice  calling  "Friend!"  the  savage  snarl  vanished. 
In  the  meantime  Adnah  ate  the  meat  which  the  dog 
refused.  The  first  day  that  he  reached  forth  his 
hand  to  seize  the  neglected  food, — for  he  was  faint 
from  fasting, — the  savage  beast  sprang  upon  him, 


Despair  209 

throwing  him  to  the  ground,  and  wrenched  at  the 
chain  which  held  him  back  from  the  prostrate  form. 
But  now  it  was  different.  As  the  young  man  slipped 
under  his  ragged  dress  the  portion  that  had  been 
left,  the  dog,  tall  and  rigid,  stood  with  an  eye  on 
the  alert  for  Scipio. 

The  overseer  was  usually  present  when  the  dogs 
were  fed,  but  when  the  meat  had  been  thrown  upon 
the  ground,  he  seldom  lingered  to  see  it  devoured. 
The  Jew  had  found  all  appeals  for  food  in  vain. 
"You  starve?"  sneered  Scipio;  "turn  brigand, 
then,  and  eat  your  fill!" 

When  he  had  taken  forth  his  flock  into  the  lonely 
grazing-lands,  he  built  a  little  fire  and  cooked  the 
meat  while  the  dog  sat  watching  him,  wrinkling  his 
huge  nose  with  satisfaction,  and  stirring  the  stump 
of  a  tail  which  was  too  short  to  wag,— it  had  been 
docked  to  prevent  hydrophobia.  As  time  passed 
by,  the  dog  regained  his  former  appetite,  but  still  he 
left  part  of  his  repast  untouched  for  his  master; 
still  he  sat  unmoved  during  the  cooking,  though  the 
moisture  would  trickle  from  his  massive  jowl.  But 
to  others  he  became  more  dangerous,  more  untam 
able.  All  day  he  kept  an  outlook  for  wolves  while 
the  sheep  straggled  over  the  green,  and  Adnah, 
seated  in  a  shady  nook,  brooded  upon  his  fate. 

At  evening  when  he  had  taken  his  flock  to  the 


2io  Adnah 

fold,  Adnah's  day's  work  was  over.  Then  if  it  were 
chilly  he  sought  the  hut  built  by  his  own  hands  on 
his  first  arrival.  It  was  fashioned  of  wattled  reeds, 
the  long  hollow  stalks  forming  a  cone.  The  room 
was  just  wide  enough  to  allow  one  to  stretch  at  full 
length,  and  only  in  the  centre  could  one  stand  erect. 
The  bed  was  a  pile  of  straw,  the  cover  a  mat  made 
of  the  skins  of  wolves.  Here  Adnah  slept  with  his 
dog  curled  beside  him,  and  from  the  heap  of  straw 
a  ladder  of  dreams  reached  up  into  a  heaven  of  love. 
When  it  grew  cold  and  frost  whitened  the  earth, 
and  a  wind  moaned  over  the  vast  uplands,  Adnah 
and  the  dog  lay  close,  one  dreaming  of  Miriam,  the 
other  of  wolves. 

In  the  first  spring  Adnah  planted  a  garden,  the 
seeds  generously  furnished  by  the  milieus.  As  he 
watched  the  springing  up  of  the  vegetables,  and 
saw  them  coming  to  maturity,  he  felt  his  passion 
against  Iddo  dying  away,  and  once  more  he  could 
see  the  face  of  Jesus  and  hear  His  gentle  voice.  He 
worked  hard,  urged  not  so  much  by  necessity  as  by 
love.  His  garden  became  a  friend,  and  its  chang 
ing  face  furnished  a  never-failing  source  of  interest. 
He  thought  that  page  of  nature  never  read  the 
same  on  different  days.  It  was  a  garden  too  valu 
able  for  a  slave  to  possess, — Adnah  had  overshot  the 
mark,  and  Scipio  quietly  waited  without  a  hint  of 


Despair  21 1 

what  was  to  happen.  Turnips,  carrots,  onions,  as 
paragus,  cucumbers,  cabbage,  lettuce,  beans,  peas, 
melons, — all  these  he  had  in  generous  profusion, 
and  he  saw  the  day  approaching  when  he  need  not 
live  upon  the  dog's  rejected  meat. 

But  the  day  did  not  come.  The  overseer  took 
from  him  his  garden  when  it  was  beginning  to 
ripen,  and  sent  him  into  a  remote  pasture-land  with 
a  new  flock.  Here,  in  bitterness  of  spirit,  he  built 
another  hut,  and  all  his  spare  time  was  needed 
in  clearing  the  land  of  thorny  brambles  so  danger 
ous  to  newly-sheared  sheep,  and  in  watching  for 
snakes  which  were  numerous.  So,  since  coming 
into  captivity,  he  had  lost  one  friend, — his  garden; 
he  had  but  one  left, — his  dog.  At  night  as  he  lay 
upon  his  straw,  bright  dreams  ceased  to  visit  him; 
revenge  sang  the  only  song  his  ears  could  under 
stand. 

A  change  came  over  him  during  the  course  of  the 
next  year.  He  ceased  to  feel  any  emotion  keenly; 
even  his  hate  was  dulled.  He  sank  into  that  lethargy 
which  distinguished  the  lives  of  his  fellows.  The 
lonely  watch  by  day,  the  rude  hut  by  night,  the 
isolation  which  prevented  his  hearing  any  voice  but 
that  of  the  cruel  overseer, — all  this  helped  to  rob  his 
nature  of  its  graces.  He  became  more  and  more 
like  his  dog.  He  ceased  to  speak  to  himself,  he  sel- 


2 1 2  Adnah 

dom  patted  his  companion.  During  the  rainy 
season  his  hut  leaked,  his  bed  became  sodden.  He 
gave  up  the  care  of  his  person,  and  there  was  noth 
ing  in  his  dress  or  mien  to  differentiate  him  from 
the  rude  shepherds  of  his  master.  His  life  began  to 
tell  upon  his  health.  A  hacking  cough  announced 
his  approach;  his  sleep  became  broken.  He  had 
long  ago  learned  the  nutritious  herbs  that  were  to 
be  found  near  the  base  of  the  mountains,  and  the 
skill  that  devises  traps  without  tools  for  the  ensnar 
ing  of  birds  and  wild  beasts.  Thus  he  was  some 
times  able  to  invite  "  Friend"  to  his  own  table;  and 
when  his  trap  was  empty,  and  the  herbs  had  lost 
their  succulence,  he  found  "Friend"  a  hospitable 
host. 

A  change  came  when  Scipio,  one  day,  discovered 
the  dog's  meat  hidden  in  Adnah's  clothes.  "  Aho!  " 
cried  the  overseer  with  a  furious  grin,  "it  is  thus 
you  are  enabled  to  live,  stealing  from  the  dog  when 
a  dog  is  worth  two  slaves.  It  is  thus  you  subsist 
without  your  garden,  yet  never  become  a  brigand. 
Strip  yourself,  fellow,  that  I  may  write  upon  your 
skin  a  lesson  to  be  learned  at  your  leisure! " 

Adnah  gave  one  despairing  glance  at  the  brutal 
face,  at  the  powerful  bared  arm,  at  the  long  coiling 
whip.  His  cough  came  upon  him  and  his  form 
was  racked. 


Despair  213 

"Quick — quick!"  shouted  Scipio.  "Do  you 
think  to  soften  me  by  such  frauds  ?  The  bare  skin 
instantly,  or  this  blade  will  be  driven  through  your 
heart! " 

Adnah  realized  his  helplessness,  his  small  value, 
— since  slaves  could  be  bought  at  prices  directly 
controlled  by  the  enormous  quantities  upon  the 
market, — and  his  uncertain  hold  upon  life, — since 
masters  had  a  right  to  kill  their  slaves  when  and  in 
whatever  manner  they  desired.  He  slipped  his 
rude  garment  from  him  and  stood  naked  before  the 
lash.  The  overseer  flung  back  the  whip  to  bring  it 
down  with  all  his  force  upon  the  statuesque  form. 

Then  "Friend"  stepped  between,  and  showed 
his  teeth  while  his  huge  breast  quivered  with  sub 
terranean  growls.  "So  be  it!  "  said  Scipio,  drop 
ping  the  whip, — "then  starve  together!  "  But  the 
overseer  knew  Adnah  would  not  let  the  dog  die  of 
starvation;  he  believed  the  young  man  would  now 
be  forced  to  subsist  by  robbery. 

It  was  thus  the  shepherds  of  great  estates  were 
expected  to  procure  their  living.  The  homes  of  the 
peasants  were  usually  at  their  mercy,  and  if  they 
attacked  travelers  on  the  highroad,  there  was  no 
redress  to  the  outraged,  on  account  of  the  power  of 
the  patricians,  and  the  laxity  of  the  law.  For  this 
one  cause  of  banding  together  to  extort  wealth 


214  Adnah 

from  defenseless  travelers,  the  slaves  were  allowed 
to  hold  meetings  and  enjoy  brief  social  intercourse. 
A  magister  operae  was  always  present  to  see  that 
the  conference  did  not  deflect  from  its  avowed  pur 
pose,  and  become  the  nucleus  of  a  rebellion  against 
authority.  Thus  far  Adnah,  with  a  horror  of  rob 
bery  and  violence  in  common  with  his  race,  had 
held  aloof  from  such  marauding  expeditions.  For 
himself,  he  preferred  starvation  to  the  crime  of 
thieving, — more  ignoble  and  despised  than  that  of 
murder.  But  the  dog  ?  Adnah  could  subsist  upon 
berries,  herbs  and  the  few  wild  creatures  that  were 
entangled  in  his  nets.  But  "Friend"  scorned 
berries  and  herbs.  The  few  wolves  that  fell 
victims  to  his  powerful  teeth  were  rare  incidents  in 
his  life.  Adnah's  game  reminded  him  of  the  de 
lights  of  living  rather  than  furnished  him  with  such 
tangible  delights. 

"Friend"  grew  gaunt  and  thin,  and,  if  possible, 
more  dangerous  than  before.  Three  years  had 
passed  since  he  and  his  master  became  acquainted. 
No  one  who  had  known  Adnah,  the  youth,  could  have 
recognized  Adnah,  the  man.  He  was  tall  and  thin, 
his  complexion  swarthy,  his  hair  unkempt,  his  face 
bearded,  his  brow  heavy.  He  wore  a  dress  of 
goatskin,  which  reached  his  knees.  His  breast, 
one  shoulder,  and  his  legs  were  bare.  Upon  his 


Despair  215 

feet  were  wooden  shoes, — the  villicus  furnished 
each  slave  with  a  pair  every  two  years.  He  wore 
no  covering  for  his  head.  Every  day  except  in  the 
rainy  season,  he  might  have  been  seen,  his  staff  in 
hand,  going  forth  with  his  flock,  attended  by  a 
half-famished  dog.  In  the  midst  of  a  deserted 
landscape,  he  would  sink  beside  a  rock,  or  lie  under 
a  tree,  staring  up  at  the  sky,  while  "  Friend"  kept 
guard.  His  eyes  wore  that  dull,  glazed  look  which 
tells  of  utter  surrender  to  misfortune.  Never  did 
the  thought  of  escape  visit  him.  Sometimes  when 
he  glared  with  loathing  at  the  scene  around,  hating 
the  very  trees,  the  very  grass,  the  very  sheep, — he 
fancied  he  saw  his  own  grave  here  in  the  wilds  of 
Sicily.  Here  he  would  surely  die  and  be  buried. 
When  he  thought  of  Miriam  it  was  no  longer  with 
pleasure,  but  as  one  who  seeks  to  recall  the  name 
of  an  old  acquaintance.  When  he  remembered 
Iddo,  the  cause  of  all  his  misery,  he  felt  no  longer 
the  fierce  blood  leaping  through  his  veins.  Loved 
one  and  enemy, — both  were  growing  dim  memories. 
Once  it  was  borne  upon  him  with  a  stinging  pain 
to  which  he  had  grown  unaccustomed,  that  he  was 
losing  the  power  to  feel  any  emotion  keenly, — that 
he  was  becoming  a  dull  brute,  unable  to  lift  his 
thoughts  above  shelter  and  food.  The  knowledge 
smote  upon  him  and  he  broke  into  bitter  sobs, — 


2 1 6  Adnah 

heavy,  dry  sobs  that  presently  died  away  because 
he  could  not  sustain  the  emotion  of  sorrow. 
Fainter  and  fainter  grew  the  pictures  of  the  past; 
stronger  became  the  supreme  importance  of  the 
moment.  In  another  respect  Adnah  had  become 
like  the  dog;  both  were  starving. 

"Friend,"  said  Adnah,  "let  us  wait  one  more 
night,  and  if  the  traps  are  empty,  perhaps  we  will 
become  brigands,  after  all." 

The  dog  laid  his  massive  head  upon  the  naked 
knee,  and  wrinkling  back  his  forehead,  looked  up 
into  his  master's  haggard  face.  The  night  came, 
but  the  traps  were  unsprung. 

The  next  day  Adnah  said,  "We  will  wait  another 
night,  Friend.  Courage!" 

But  the  night  brought  no  food.  In  the  morning 
when  they  were  in  the  pastures,  Adnah  threw  his 
arm  about  the  dog's  neck  and  said,  "It  is  no  use, 
Friend,  I  cannot  become  a  brigand;  we  must  die 
before  that.  I  cannot  forget  that  I  am  a  Jew;  and 
Friend,  my  father  was  not  a  thief;  no,  my  father 
was  not  a  thief!"  As  he  spoke  the  words  he  felt 
the  stirring  of  a  passion  that  had  smouldered  all 
these  years, — the  thirst  for  vengeance. 

The  dog  read  the  note  of  hopelessness.  He  slowly 
turned  away,  and  crept  from  his  master.  Adnah  felt 
that  even  the  dog  had  deserted  him.  He  lay  with  his 


Despair  217 

face  in  his  arms  as  if  dead.  An  hour  passed  thus 
unheeded,  then  the  dog's  tongue  touched  the  back 
of  his  hand.  He  started  up.  There  stood  the 
famished  dog  over  him,  the  great  frame  painfully 
distinct  from  the  shrinking  of  the  skin.  The  dog's 
mouth  was  bloody.  Adnah  started  up,  glancing 
down  at  the  same  time.  The  back  of  his  hand 
which  the  hot  tongue  had  touched  was  bloody,  also. 

"Friend!  "  cried  Adnah  in  wonder. 

The  dog  drooped  his  head,  then  crept  away.  He 
looked  back  and  whined  for  his  master  to  follow, 
then  crouched  close  to  the  earth  as  if  ashamed. 

Adnah  whispered  with  a  white  face,  "Is  he  going 
mad  ?  " 

The   dog  looked   back,   then   advanced  slowly. 

The  young  man  seized  his  stout  staff  and  followed. 
He  was  conducted  towards  the  forest  that  stretched 
to  the  mountains.  "  Friend"  led  the  way  without 
hesitation,  but  never  with  a  sign  of  happiness. 
They  came  to  the  traps  and  Adnah  uttered  a  glad 
cry;  apparently  some  beast  had  been  caught  in  the 
snare.  The  dog  crouched  close  to  the  ground, 
quivering,  casting  furtive  looks  at  his  master. 
Adnah  drew  nearer  the  dead  animal.  It  was  a 
lamb,  its  throat  bathed  in  fresh  blood.  The  dog 
had  killed  it  while  Adnah  lay  despairing,  and  had 
dragged  it  all  the  way  to  the  traps. 


218  Adnah 

"Oh,  Friend,  Friend!  "  cried  Adnah,  falling  upon 
his  knees  beside  the  dog,  "you  have  written  your 
own  death  in  the  lifeblood  of  this  lamb."  The  tears 
streamed  down  his  face,  for  he  knew  that  his  only 
friend  must  die.  The  dog  still  quivered  upon  the 
earth,  abject  but  heroic. 

"  But  I  will  keep  the  secret,"  whispered  Adnah, 
"they  will  find  out  soon  enough.  You  have  killed 
your  first  lamb,  poor  Friend;  you  have  tasted  the 
blood  of  innocence;  your  course  downward  is 
certain.  Alas!  is  not  every  sheep  counted  each 
night?  What  can  I  say  for  you,  Friend?"  His 
tears  rained  down  upon  the  crouching  form.  The 
dog  licked  his  hand. 

Tortures  of  hunger  for  a  time  overcame  his  sor 
row.  He  built  a  fire  and  roasted  the  meat,  while 
the  dog  returned  to  guard  the  flock.  But  the  eyes 
that  watched  the  grazing  animals  were  now  as 
fierce  as  were  those  same  eyes  when  turned  upon 
any  man  but  the  master.  Each  sheep  had  become 
to  "Friend"  a  potential  dinner.  He  realized  that 
some  terrible  punishment  awaited  him,  since  he  had 
by  his  voluntary  act  outraged  a  life  of  training. 
But  in  the  meantime  he  could  eat,  and  his  starving 
master  as  well.  When  the  meat  was  cooked, 
Adnah  crept  to  the  edge  of  the  forest  and  called  the 
dog  cautiously.  They  ate  ravenously  but  in  guilty 


Despair  219 

silence.  Adnah  hoped  the  cooked  meat  might  pre 
vent  the  dog  from  further  depredations.  Yet  when 
the  overseer's  magister  operae  should  count  the 
flock, — what  then?  Accuse  the  wolves  of  a  suc 
cessful  attack  ?  In  that,  also  was  danger.  The 
villicus  had  more  than  once  recently  dropped  the 
remark  that  the  dog  was  growing  old, — that  before 
long  he  must  be  killed  to  give  place  to  a  fresher 
guard.  This  act  would  hasten  the  fate  of  Adnah's 
friend. 

That  evening  as  Adnah  drew  near  the  ovile  with 
his  flock,  the  huge  dog  swung  before  him  in  the  path 
and  stopped,  looking  wistfully  up  into  his  master's 
face.  In  spite  of  Adnah's  barbarous  garb  and  dis 
heveled  hair  and  neglected  person,  "  Friend  "  thought 
him  the  handsomest  man  in  the  world.  Adnah 
stopped,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  great 
head.  The  dog  whined  mournfully  and  licked 
the  hand,  and  then  fawned  upon  the  wooden 
shoes. 

"Come,  Friend,"  said  Adnah,  starting  on.  But 
"Friend"  did  not  come.  He  stood  motionless, 
gazing  after  the  young  man  with  a  subdued  cry 
dying  in  his  throat.  Adnah  coaxed,  then  com 
manded,  but  the  dog  remained  like  a  statue.  Then 
the  master  returned  and  sank  upon  his  knees  beside 
his  faithful  ally.  "  Is  it  good-bye,  Friend  ?  "  he  mur- 


22O  Adnah 

mured,  putting  his  face  against  the  coarse  hair,  "  Is 
it  good-bye  ?  " 

The  dog  whined  dismally  and  licked  his  hands 
and  knees.  Adnah  arose  when  he  dared  linger  no 
longer,  and  started  towards  the  sheepfold,  scarce 
able  to  see  his  white  charges  for  his  tears.  Once 
he  looked  back.  Far  away  across  the  horizon  that 
shut  in  the  uplands,  swung  a  long,  gaunt  form, 
which,  but  for  its  white  color,  might  have  been 
mistaken  for  a  wolf.  Thus  Adnah  parted  from  his 
second  friend. 

When  he  turned  the  sheep  over  to  the  counting 
of  the  magister  operae,  he  discovered  Scipio  en 
gaged  in  conversation  with  a  stranger. 

"  Here  he  is,  now,"  said  Scipio.  Adnah  was  ap 
proached  by  the  stranger,  who  regarded  him  critic 
ally. 

"  He  does  not  look  strong,"  said  the  man. 

"  But  his  muscle  is  like  steel,"  said  Scipio.  "  His 
endurance  is  wonderful.  His  thinness  deceives 
you." 

"  He  has  a  fearful  cough,"  the  stranger  objected. 

"That  is  his  fraud,"  said  Scipio  with  an  evil  leer 
at  the  Jew.  "He  has  tried  to  move  me  with  his 
fraud,  for  he  holds  himself  above  his  fellows;  he 
will  not  rob  the  curs  that  run  our  highroads! " 

"You  will  sell  me  none  other?" 


Despair  221 

"Not  I.  Marcellus  is  buying  slaves,  not  selling. 
But  this  fellow  does  not  fit  into  our  life;  he  is  an 
eternal  drawing-back  upon  the  cord  of  my  con 
tent." 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  stranger,  "after  all,  it  is 
numbers  I  seek  rather  than  valor.  No  one  can 
withstand  Sextus.  Come,  fellow,  receive  the 
chains." 

Adnah's  heart  leaped.  Any  change  seemed  de 
sirable.  "What  has  happened?"  he  ventured  to 
ask  Scipio. 

"What  has  happened,  is  your  transfer  to  a  new 
master,"  said  Scipio  with  a  grim  smile.  "  What 
will  happen  is  your  death  in  Pilate's  amphitheatre, 
— whither  you  are  about  to  be  carried!  " 

"  Back  to  Judea!"  shouted  Adnah;  this  fact  was 
more  important  to  his  mind  than  the  danger  at 
which  the  overseer  hinted. 

"Why,  yes,"  said  the  stranger  as  he  secured 
Adnah's  arms,  "Pilate  gives  a  game  in  honor  of 
Tiberius,  and  I  am  seeking  many  slaves  to  make 
sport  in  the  arena.  I  think,  in  spite  of  Scipio's 
brave  words  for  you,  fellow,  that  Sextus  the  gladi 
ator  will  make  short  work  of  this  muscle,  and  this 
endurance  1" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

PURSUIT 

REUBEN  BEN  JOEL  was  returning  to  Capernaum 
after  his  consecration  as  a  priest.  As  he  drew  near 
the  walled  city,  his  eyes  turned  upon  the  sea  of 
Galilee,  but  they  saw  not  the  fishers'  boats  that 
were  tacking  towards  the  shore.  A  Friday  evening 
was  drawing  to  a  close;  the  Sabbath  was  about  to 
begin.  The  young  man's  gaze  was  fixed  upon  the 
future  which  his  ambitious  fancy  painted  for  his 
feet.  Already  a  priest,  already  a  friend  of  Lucius 
the  centurion,  already  the  recipient  of  honors  from 
Roman  officials,  the  Sadducee  saw  himself  walking 
with  ease  to  seats  of  greatness.  The  tendencies  of 
the  youth  had,  with  the  passing  of  years,  become 
hardened  into  fixed  traits  of  character.  As  a  Sad 
ducee  wealth  and  glory  were  accessible,  and  being- 
fettered  by  few  of  the  traditions  which  made  the 
life  of  the  Rabbi  a  monotonous  round  of  ceremonial 
observances,  he  exulted  in  the  absence  of  weights 
which  might  have  checked  his  course.  Everything 
was  to  be  devoted  to  obtaining  this  authority  which 
distinguished  his  class.  And  everything  had  yielded 
to  his  wishes  except  — 

222 


Pursuit  223 

A  frown  crossed  his  face  as  he  drew  nearer  his 
native  city.  It  was  very  hard  that  the  only  definite 
check  to  his  career  had  come  from  his  sister!  What 
would  he  not  have  done  for  her?  What  had  he  not 
done,  which  an  affectionate  brother  could  do  ?  And 
she  had  always  pretended  to  love  him;  he  had  be 
lieved  in  her  love.  But  it  had  consisted  in  words, 
—words!  Now  that  she  could  assist  him  by  an 
act,  she  shook  her  head.  Yet  what  he  asked  was 
not  only  for  his  advancement,  but  for  her  welfare, 
and  for  the  gratification  of  his  parents.  One  of  the 
most  influential  members  of  the  Sanhedrim,  a  Sad- 
ducee  who  had  it  in  his  power  to  advance  Reuben 
to  a  higher  step  in  the  Jewish  aristocracy,  one  who 
was  old  and  staid  and  faithful  to  the  cold  and 
polished  doctrines  of  his  caste,  one  who  was  old 
enough  to  be  Miriam's  father,  had  asked  for  her  in 
marriage.  And  she  had  refused!  On  Reuben's  in 
sisting,  pleading,  even  commanding,  she  had  wept, 
she  had  fasted,  she  had  paled  day  after  day, — but 
she  had  refused;  and  still  refused;  and  declared 
passionately  that  she  would  never  marry,  never! 
Her  mother  urged  her,  even  for  her  brother's  sake, 
to  take  advantage  of  this  wonderful  opportunity. 
But  Joel  would  stroke  his  daughter's  hair  and  say, 
"  It  shall  be  as  the  child  wishes." 
"  As  the  child  wishes," — a  maiden, — a  sister  whom 


224  Adnah 

one  naturally  expects  to  do  as  she  is  told,  from 
whom  one  has  a  right  to  exact  silent  obedience  and 
unreasoning  affection.  The  great  Sadducee  was 
waiting  for  Miriam  to  come  to  her  reason;  but  the 
jeweled  hand  that  stroked  his  flowing  white  beard 
was  becoming  agitated;  the  cold,  proud  eyes  that 
met  Reuben's  gaze  were  growing  less  friendly  than 
their  wont.  The  young  priest  read  danger  ahead, 
unless  Miriam  could  be  taught  her  duty.  Still,  he 
did  not  despair  of  working  upon  his  sister's  soft 
nature;  only, — the  loss  of  time  irritated  him,  and — 
as  he  believed  with  all  his  heart, — irritated  him  most 
justly. 

Why  did  the  maiden  object  to  this  marriage 
which  any  other  damsel  might  count  a  crowning 
glory  ?  Why  does  a  maiden  of  a  marrying  age, 
full  of  health  and  remarked  for  her  beauty,  declare 
that  she  will  never  marry,  never?  It  is  not  the 
nature  of  a  girl  to  see  clear  to  the  end  of  her  life 
and  discover  no  shadow  of  a  husband  in  her  path. 
Reuben  was  betrothed  to  the  daughter  of  this  very 
white-bearded  suitor, — and  yet  a  woman  inclines 
towards  settled  life  long  before  a  man!  The  Sad 
ducee  had  been  a  widower  five  years;  his  daughter 
was  Miriam's  age;  what  companions  they  might 
become! 

"It  is  either  Gothinus   or  Adnah,"   mused  the 


Pursuit  225 

priest.  "A  maid's  resolution  never  to  marry,  evi 
dently  springs  from  her  inability  to  obtain  the  man 
of  her  choice.  Alas!  that  /,  but  newly  come  to 
honor,  should  be  hindered  by  a  sister  who  has  a 
man  of  her  choice.  What!  Is  it  for  maidens  to 
have  any  choice  until  they  are  married  ?  Yet  it 
must  be  that  Miriam  loves!  That  will  explain  the 
change  that  has  come  over  her;  what  else  can  ex 
plain  it  ?  There  is  Gothinus, — a  heretic,  a  gentile, 
and  a  barbarian;  and  there  is  Adnah,  a  thief  and  the 
son  of  a  thief,— how  the  sin  of  the  father  is  visited 
upon  the  child! — a  slave,  an  abandoned  wretch, — 
his  uncle,  the  despised  Pharisee,  and  worse  than 

all " 

Reuben  groaned  aloud.  At  that  moment  from 
the  synagogue  of  Capernaum  which  Lucius  the 
centurion  had  built  for  the  Jews,  came  the  first 
trumpet-blast  announcing  the  advent  of  Sabbath. 
The  sun  was  setting.  The  laborers  in  the  fields 
ceased  from  a  week  of  toil.  By  the  time  the  third 
blast  had  warned  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  to  stay 
all  labor,  the  young  man  had  reached  the  gate. 
Here  he  found  a  matter  of  some  excitement 
going  forward.  Lucius,  at  the  head  of  sol 
diers  from  the  garrison,  was  listening  to  the  rapid 
words  of  a  courier.  As  Reuben  came  nearer,  the 
centurion  called  him  in  a  friendly  tone.  Reuben, 


226  Adnah 

always  proud  of  recognition  from  a  man  of  author 
ity,  drew  rein  and  bowed  profoundly. 

"A  runaway  slave  with  an  iron  collar  welded 
around  his  neck! "  called  Lucius.  "If  you  discover 
such  a  one,  report  him,  or  better, — capture!" 

The  soldiers  began  to  scatter,  to  commence  the 
search  of  Capernaum. 

"I  am  happy,"  said  Reuben,  "that  a  chance  is 
offered  me  of  aiding  you,  O  Lucius." 

"  I  am  sure  he  entered  this  gate,"  said  the  courier, 
"and  I  do  not  think  he  could  possibly  have  passed 
through  the  others  before  my  comrades  were  there 
on  guard." 

"I  go  your  way,"  said  a  young  man,  riding  up 
beside  Reuben's  mule.  It  was  Gothinus,  formerly 
Lucius'  slave,  but  now  a  freedman. 

"  In  truth  ?"  murmured  Reuben  coldly. 

"The  runaway  is  a  young  man,"  said  Gothinus, 
as  if  he  had  not  noticed  the  unfriendly  intonation, 
"and  his  garment  is  made  of  the  skin  of  wolves, 
which  hangs  short  upon  his  bare  legs.  His  hair  is 
so  wild  and  matted,  it  falls  over  his  face,  almost 
hiding  the  eyes.  Thus  you  may  know  him." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Reuben  shortly. 

Gothinus  always  thought  of  Reuben  as  the  brother 
of  Miriam.  He  controlled  himself.  "  The  fellow 
was  a  thief,"  he  said  mildly.  "He  is  a  desperate 


Pursuit  227 

creature.  As  soon  as  the  ship  touched  at  Qesarea 
he  broke  bonds  and  almost  eluded  the  master. 
Then  an  iron  collar  was  welded  about  his  neck, — a 
dog  collar  for  a  dog!  And  when  they  reached  Jeru 
salem  he  got  free  again,  and  has  come  all  the  way 
hither,  dodging  through  streets  of  cities,  crouching 
in  caves  of  Samaria, — a  wonderful  chase!  a  won 
derful  criminal! " 

"  Think  you  not,"  said  Reuben,  "  we  shall  stand 
a  better  chance  of  finding  him,  if  we  separate  and 
search  in  different  streets  ?" 

"  As  you  please,  Reuben,"  quietly  answered  the 
young  man  who  had  once  saved  his  life.  Gothinus 
directed  his  horse  towards  Joel's  home. 

"Nay!"  said  Reuben  quickly,  "let  me  take  that 
road,  and  do  you  go  in  the  opposite  direction! " 

Gothinus  made  no  reply,  but  drew  his  horse  aside 
that  the  mule  might  pass.  Then  he  took  the  way 
the  brother  of  Miriam  had  indicated.  At  the  first 
turning  he  came  upon  the  runaway  slave,  advancing 
stealthily.  There  could  be  no  mistaking  the 
wretched  attire,  the  ferocious  mien,  the  swaying 
locks.  Both  were  taken  by  surprise,  and  the  slave 
uttered  a  low  wail  of  desolate  anguish.  After  his 
terrible  flight,  his  days  and  nights  of  acute  suffering, 
he  saw  the  end.  His  strength  was  gone,  and  for 
once  his  cunning  had  failed  him. 


228  Adnah 

Gothinus  was  the  first  to  recover.  He  leaped 
from  his  horse  with  drawn  sword  and  rushed  upon 
the  crouching  form. 

"  Yield!  "  cried  Gothinus. 

The  fugitive  looked  up  through  his  shaggy  hair. 

"  Reprieve,  Gothinus!  "  he  said  hoarsely.  "  Give 
me  but  half  an  hour.  Give  me  but  the  space  of 
time  for  the  killing  of  Iddo.  Give  me  this  time,  dear 
Gothinus!  Let  me  go  free  for  this  deed.  Nay,  take 
me  to  his  house,  keep  guard  over  me  if  you  please, 
but  let  these  hands  find  his  throat!  It  is  all  I  ask. 
It  is  all  I  came  for.  After  he  is  dead,  what  do  I  care 
what  can  happen  to  me  ?  I  am  a  wreck,  the  ruins 
of  a  man.  Gothinus,  we  were  friends.  Gothinus, 
you  saved  me  from  falling  to  my  death.  Do  not 
snatch  this  life  from  me  till  I  have  had  revenge.  Oh, 
my  revenge!  dear  Gothinus,  kind  Gothinus,  brave 
friend,  true  man — let  me  have  my  revenge  and  then 
I  will  come  to  you." 

"Adnah!"  cried  Gothinus. 

"  What  does  a  little  time  matter  to  you,  or  to  my 
Roman  master,  or  to  Pilate  and  his  gladiator  ? 
Half  an  hour, — a  few  minutes! — let  me  go  to  Iddo, 
let  me  find  him,  let  me  hold  him  in  these  hands,  let 
me  see  the  light  die  in  his  eyes.  Gothinus!  Gothi 
nus!  Look  at  me.  See  what  I  have  become, — it  is 
Iddo's  work.  Try  to  fancy  what  I  have  suffered. 


Pursuit  229 

But  no,  you  cannot.  Yet  you  must  try  to  imagine 
it, — no  friend  but  a  dog, — three  years!  Then  this 
iron  band  about  my  neck;  the  amphitheatre  in  store 
for  me — think  of  that, — a  Jew  cast  into  the  arena! 
A  Jew,  a  Jew  to  meet  a  Roman  gladiator!  You 
cannot  comprehend,  you  who  are  no  Jew.  Yet 
try,  try  to  see  what  I  have  endured!  Now  let  me 
go  to  Iddo.  On  my  sacred  word,  my  hope — but 
no,  I  have  no  hope;  but  by  all  that  I  hold  dear  I 
swear — but  what  do  I  hold  dear?  Nay,  what  can  I 
say  ?  I  promise  not  to  seek  escape, — only  to  find 
Iddo!" 

"Hush,  Adnah,  hush!  You  are  wild, — you  will 
make  yourself  heard.  You  will  bring  the  soldiers 
hither!  " 

"  Do  not  thwart  me,  Gothinus,  in  my  only  desire. 
What!  it  is  you,  it  is  Gothinus!  you  saved  my 
life.  Give  me  my  revenge!  " 

"But  hear  me,  Adnah,  hear  me!  " 

"Then  you  will  not  give  me  this  poor  half  hour? 
Is  this  the  end  of  all  ?  For  this,  was  I  born  into  the 
world  ?" 

"Adnah!"  cried  Gothinus  desperately,  "I  am 
your  friend,  but  you  are  mad  with  grief  and  suffer 
ing.  Hear  me,  Adnah!  Do  you  think  — 

"Then  a  curse  upon  you!"  cried  Adnah,  his  red 
eyes  glaring,  "yes,  on  you,  too,  on  you  who  were 


230  Adnah 

kind  to  me!  Do  I  think  you  would  gratify  the  dying 
wish  of  an  outcast?  No,  no,  you  belong  to  the 
world,  and  all  the  world  conspires  to  crush  me, — 
all, — there  is  not  one  voice  of  love  in  all  the  world 
for  me!  Come,  do  your  work,  I  am  unable  either 
to  resist,  or  flee."  He  ceased  his  wild  words  as  his 
emaciated  form  shook  with  terrible  coughing. 
With  uneasy  glances,  Gothinus  watched  the  road 
to  be  sure  they  were  undiscovered.  When  Adnah's 
paroxysm  was  over,  he  sank  upon  the  ground,  and 
his  head  fell  upon  his  breast. 

Then  Gothinus  stooped,  and  brushed  back  the 
unkempt  hair  from  the  outcast's  forehead.  At  the 
touch  Adnah  started,  and  his  glittering,  despairing 
eyes  were  turned  upward.  Gothinus  bent  lower, 
and  kissed  the  Jew  upon  the  brow.  "There  is  a 
voice  of  love  for  you  in  the  world,  Adnah,"  he 
said  softly;  "are  your  ears  so  dull  they  have  not 
heard  it  calling  ?" 

Then  Gothinus  leaped  upon  his  horse  and  dashed 
down  the  street.  At  the  corner  he  met  a  Roman 
soldier. 

"Do  not  come  this  way,"  said  Gothinus. 

"You  have  searched  well?"  inquired  the  other. 

"Well,"  said  Gothinus.  Both  rode  forward  and 
presently  met  Reuben.  Gothinus  was  surprised  to 
hear  Miriam's  brother  call  him. 


Pursuit  231 

"Ho,  Gothinus!" 

He  checked  his  horse. 

"Did  you  hear,"  inquired  Reuben  approaching, 
"  the  name  of  the  runaway  slave  ?  " 

Gothinus  did  not  reply,  but  his  companion  burst 
into  a  laugh.  "We  do  not  know  runaway  slaves 
by  names,  we  soldiers!  "  he  said  insolently. 

"  I  have  been  musing  on  what  you  told  me,"  said 
Reuben  to  Gothinus,  ignoring,  as  a  Jew  must, 
Roman  impudence,  "and  I  have  been  wondering  if 
that  slave  can  be  Adnah  ?  You  say  he  is  a  thief; 
you  say  he  fled  hither  all  the  way  from  Jerusalem; 
you  say  he  is  a  young  man  and  desperate.  Surely 
this  is  Adnah!  and  if  I  find  him " 

Reuben  smiled. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MIRIAM'S  VOICE 

As  soon  as  Adnah  realized  that  he  had  been 
granted  a  reprieve,  his  madness  for  revenge  gave 
him  strength.  He  had  laid  bare  his  heart  to 
Gothinus  in  declaring  that  this  was  his  only  object 
in  life.  As  soon  as  he  killed  Iddo,  he  would  give 
himself  up  to  the  Romans.  He  realized  the  impos 
sibility  of  finding  his  father,  or  of  making  any  one 
believe  his  word  against  that  of  the  revered  Phari 
see.  Samuel  must  live  out  his  life  of  captivity,  he 
must  suffer  wherever  he  might  be;  his  distress  could 
not  equal  that  of  his  son.  And  Iddo,  also,  would 
suffer, — Iddo,  the  cause  of  these  two  ruined  lives! 
Adnah's  encounter  with  Gothinus  made  him  more 
cautious.  He  lay  in  a  deserted  hovel  until  it  was 
dark,  then  stole  to  his  uncle's  house. 

As  the  familiar  place  came  in  sight,  all  his  desolate 
childhood  seemed  to  rise  from  the  ground,  urging 
him  to  a  desperate  deed.  And  there  stood  Joel's 
house,  upon  whose  roof  he  had  so  often  seen  Miriam. 
Miriam!  Where  was  she  now  ?  Whose  wife  had 

she  become?    Ah,  what  matter?    She  must  long 

232 


Miriam's  Voice  233 

ago  have  forgotten  him,  after  she  had  learned  to 
despise  him  as  a  thief.  What  matter,  indeed!  Yet 
the  thought  of  Miriam  sent  his  blood  like  molten 
iron  through  his  veins.  His  eyes  caught  fire  from 
his  fury.  The  thought  of  her  was  a  burning-glass 
upon  the  hate  that  smouldered  in  his  heart.  For 
getting  caution,  he  rushed  upon  Iddo's  gate,  he 
tried  to  force  it  open. 

Suddenly  he  desisted  with  a  startled  cry,  which 
was  only  half  subdued.  It  was  rapidly  growing 
too  dark  to  distinguish  objects,  but  his  fingers  had 
found  the  edges  of  the  gate  sealed  with  wax.  He 
stared  overhead  and  discerned  a  board  nailed  upon 
the  top  of  the  gate.  It  was  too  dark  to  read  its  in 
scription,  and  Adnah  could  not  have  read  it,  had  the 
sun  been  shining;  but  he  knew  its  meaning.  Iddo's 
house  had  been  confiscated  by  the  Roman  govern 
ment.  The  sealed  gate  and  the  placard  could  mean 
nothing  else.  The  young  man  sank  at  the  foot  of  the 
gate,  breathing  convulsively.  Iddo  was  gone!  His 
terrible  flight  through  Samaria  had  been  in  vain,  his 
life  of  sorrow  must  remain  unavenged.  But  what 
could  have  happened  ?  Perhaps  Iddo  had  been  de 
tected  in  his  crime;  perhaps  Samuel  had  been 
cleared.  Could  it  be  that  Adnah's  father  was  free, 
seeking  his  son  ? 

Suddenly  the  outcast  remembered  a  means  of  en- 


234  Adnah 

trance.  He  slipped  around  to  the  rear  of  the  court, 
and  felt  carefully  for  certain  holes  which  perforated 
the  wall  of  sun-dried  bricks.  Soon  after,  he  had 
climbed  to  the  coping,  and  his  descent  into  the 
court  was  easy.  At  home  again!  Hornet  A  bit 
ter  smile  crossed  his  face  as  he  thought  of  his  fail 
ure  to  find  Iddo  and  of  his  promise  to  return  to 
Gothinus.  It  might  be  that  his  uncle  lay  hiding  in 
the  house.  Adnah  tried  the  doors.  All  were  sealed. 
He  crept  to  the  window  of  the  little  room  where  he 
had  slept;  he  wrenched  it  from  its  frame. 

It  was  now  intensely  dark,  for  the  sky  was 
clouded,  and  the  moon  was  on  the  wane.  Adnah 
made  his  way  from  room  to  room  with  arms  out 
stretched.  He  found  every  apartment  deserted; 
nothing  but  bare  floors, — bare  walls.  The  house 
had  been  stripped  by  the  soldiers.  Gothinus  must 
have  known  of  Iddo's  absence  when  he  granted  the 
slave  a  reprieve.  His  show  of  mercy  had  been  a 
mockery!  But  the  kiss  ?  Adnah  trembled.  Every 
room  had  been  searched,  and  as  he  stood  once 
more  in  his  old  cell  where  he  had  so  often  crept 
after  a  beating,  where  he  had  so  many  times  felt 
the  acute  pangs  of  hunger,  his  breath  threatened  to 
fail  him.  He  climbed  out  the  window,  and  stag 
gered  to  the  margin  of  the  fountain. 

Sinking  upon  the  pavement  he  bathed  his  face 


Miriam's  Voice  235 

and  hands,  and  felt  relief.  There  was  nothing  now 
but  surrender.  Yet  he  hesitated  to  give  himself  up. 
Here  at  last  were  a  few  hours  of  security.  No  one 
would  look  for  him  in  the  confiscated  house.  Just 
before  dawn  he  would  steal  to  the  home  of  Lucius, 
put  himself  into  the  hands  of  Gothinus,  and 
so, — the  end.  But  until  then  he  had  a  wild  yearn 
ing  to  enjoy  liberty,  to  feel  himself  free  and  at  home. 
He  stared  in  the  direction  of  Joel's  home,  which 
scarce  made  a  blur  in  the  gloom.  Could  it  be  that 
Miriam  slept  there?  Could  it  be,  after  all,  that 
sometimes  she  gave  him  a  thought  of  pity  ? 

He  felt  a  strange  thrill, — it  was  like  the  shadow  of 
approaching  happiness, — when  he  realized  that  she 
might  be  on  the  other  side  of  that  dear  old  stone 
wall.  The  thought  of  her  brought  him  to  a  miser 
able  sense  of  his  degradation.  Then  it  became  an 
actual  pleasure  to  imagine  that  he  could  make  him 
self  more  worthy  of  the  dream  of  his  youth.  "  I 
must  be  clean  before  I  think  of  Miriam,"  he  whis 
pered.  He  laid  aside  his  dress  of  wolves'-skins, 
and  stepped  into  the  pool.  How  long  had  it  been 
since  he  had  taken  such  a  bath  ?  He  could  not  re 
member.  When  he  stood  dripping  upon  the  pave 
ment,  he  felt  younger,  stronger,  more  innocent. 
Alas!  he  had  but  the  wolves'-skins  to  clothe  his 
nakedness. 


236  Adnah 

It  was  a  balmy  night,  and  the  clouds  shut  in  the 
warmth  for  him,  making  the  world  a  pleasant  dress 
ing-room.  There  was  a  stillness  in  the  air,  a  solemn 
hush,  as  if  the  earth  lay  asleep  waiting  for  love  to 
come  with  its  awakening  kiss.  And  now  as  he  sat 
upon  the  bench,  he  could  think  of  Miriam.  He 
was  worthy.  But  he  thought  of  her  only  as  the  girl 
who  had  brought  him  food, — who  had  blushed  to 
meet  his  eyes  in  the  street  of  the  Holy  City.  He 
dared  not  think  of  her  grown  to  maturity,  for  fear 
the  gates  of  another  love  stood  between  her  and 
his  dream. 

At  last  the  house  of  Joel  began  to  grow  definite  in 
its  outlines;  the  tardy  moon  had  come  to  look  upon 
the  wanderer.  As  it  grew  lighter,  Adnah's  heart 
leaped.  Surely  there  were  forms  resting  upon  the 
house-top!  He  glided  from  the  bench  to  seek  a 
corner  where  he  would  be  in  shadow.  The  moon 
rose  higher;  three  forms,  and  two  of  them  were 
women;  were  they  not  Miriam  and  her  mother? 
Adnah  scarce  dared  breathe  as  he  strained  his  eyes. 
Soon  it  would  be  light  enough  to  distinguish  their 
features.  Soon  he  would  see  Miriam  again!  Soon 
he  would  be  gazing  up  at  her  from  his  obscure  po 
sition  as  he  had  so  often  gazed,  years  ago.  But  no, 
the  three  forms  arose,  and  passed  down  the  stairs 
that  ran  along  the  outside  of  the  building.  They 


Miriam's  Voice  237 

disappeared  in  Joel's  court.  The  young  man  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands  and  wept.  The  great  tears 
streamed  over  his  emaciated  fingers.  When  he 
looked  up  again,  the  moonlight  was  shining  bril 
liantly  upon  the  neighboring  house-top,  making 
every  outline  vividly  distinct. 

"  I  hate  you!  "  said  Adnah,  glaring  at  the  moon. 

The  next  moment  his  hand  went  to  his  heart; 
there  were  footsteps  in  the  adjacent  court. 

"Do  not  stay  up  for  me,  Zuph,"  said  a  voice. 
Her  voice — Miriam's  voice!  Adnah  struggled 
upon  his  knees.  He  had  grown  as  white  as  the 
pale  moonlight  upon  the  stone  wall. 

"  But  your  father  and  brother  will  not  return  till 
day,"  said  the  old  slave;  "they  will  search  for  the 
runaway  till  morning  light.  What  care  they  for  the 
niceties  of  the  Sabbath  ?  " 

"I  am  not  afraid,  Zuph.  I  will  walk  here  in  the 
dear  moonlight,  for  I  cannot  sleep." 

Adnah  lifted  his  head,  and  looked  up  at  the 
moon.  "  I  love  you!  "  he  whispered. 

"Your  mother  is  going  to  bed,"  grumbled  the 
old  man.  "  Are  you  wiser  than  she,  Miriam  ?  " 

"Good  Zuph,  I  have  not  become  wise  enough, 
yet,  to  throw  away  the  chance  of  a  happy  hour. 
Leave  me  to  enjoy  the  night.  The  clouds  are 
rolling  away  so  rapidly,  I  love  to  watch  them,  and 


238  Adnah 

yet — that  poor  slave!  it  will  make  it  harder  for  him 
to  hide." 

"  So  much  the  better.  Surely,  child,  you  do  not 
want  that  vile  thief  to  escape  ?  That  would  be  wish 
ing  poor  luck  to  your  father  and  brother!  But  you 
were  always  so  strange, — to  have  a  father  who  is 
wealthy!  Do  you  remember  that  blind  beggar  and 
the  gladiator?  And  even  Adnah,  you  had  a  kind 
thought  for  him,  once;  I  do  think  you  were  sorry 
when  he  was  sold  and  carried  out  of  the  world!  It 
is  so  strange  for  the  daughter  of  a  great  man  to 
soil  her  mind  with  the  thoughts  of  such  low 
creatures!  " 

"But  you  know,  Zuph,  he  was  innocent,  for  that 
mule  belonged  to  Lucius.  And  his  father  was  not 
a  thief,  either.  And  he  is  not  a  low  creature,  and  I 
will  not  have  you  say  so!  " 

"At  any  rate  you  cannot  deny  his  uncle  was 
discovered  conspiring  against  Tiberius,  and  now 
lies  in  Pilate's  dungeon,  presently  to  disport  himself 
in  the  arena! " 

"  I  know  what  Iddo  is,  well  enough.  But  that  is 
not  his  fault." 

"  Why!  whose  fault  is  it  but  his  own  ?  " 

"Of  course  it  is  his  own,  but  not  his,  and  you 
must  not  call  him  a  low  creature  to  me,  Zuph! " 

"I  am  glad  of  one  thing,"  grumbled  the  other; 


Miriam's  Voice  239 

"you  may  say  'his'  and  'him,'  but  you  never 
speak  his  name.  I  don't  think  I  have  heard  it 
upon  your  lips  since  he  was  dragged  out  of 
Judea!  " 

"There  is  no  need;  you  know  whom  I  mean." 

"No  need,  indeed,  child,  and  I  am  glad  you  see 
that  so  clearly,  for  it  is  not  a  name  worthy  the  lips 
of  my  master's  daughter." 

"  In  truth,  Zuph,  that  is  not  why  I  never  speak  it, 
and  you  deceive  yourself;  and,  Zuph,  you  take 
liberties  from  our  old  friendship,  and  forget  lam  no 
longer  a  child." 

"  I  shall  take  one  more  liberty,"  retorted  the  old 
man  with  some  asperity,  "  and  ask  why  you  never 
speak  his  name,  but  always  avoid  it  if  possible,— 
unless  it  is  because  you  know  it  is  not  worthy  to  be 
spoken  by  those  proud  lips." 

"  But  they  are  not  proud  lips,  Zuph." 

"No!  "  groaned  the  other,  "  but  they  should  be 
proud  lips." 

"I  cannot  answer  your  question,  because  I  do 
not  know  the  answer.  However,  it  seems  that 
when  his  name  is  about  to  be  spoken — but  I  cannot 
tell." 

"  Then  /  know!  "  cried  the  other  gleefully.  "  It 
is  your  blood,  protesting  in  spite  of  your  heart.  I 
have  not  sought  to  train  you  for  nothing.  You 


240  Adnah 

have  some  of  Reuben's  haughty  spirit  after  all,  and 
know  it  not! " 

"Zuph,  Zuph,  it  is  not  true!"  cried  Miriam,  so 
eagerly  that  her  tone  seemed  to  tremble  with  anger. 
"  Do  not  imagine  I  am  ashamed  to  speak  his  name. 
Adnah !  Do  you  hear  ?  I  say  it — Adnah  !  and 
there  is  not  a  drop  of  blood  in  my  veins  that  is 
ashamed.  No!  Adnah,  Adnah!  It  is  a  precious 
name  to  me,  for  it  is  the  name  of  a  friend.  The 
thought  of  me  is  a  flower  in  his  life.  It  is  not  be 
cause  of  my  lips  but  because  of  the  ears  of  others, 
that  his  name — Adnah's  name — is  not  heard. 
Whenjyow  hear  his  name,  you  think  of  a  slave  with 
a  terrible  cloud  resting  upon  his  fame.  But  when 
/hear  it " 

"  What  then  ?"  demanded  Zuph  drily. 

"  Leave  me  in  the  court,  dear  Zuph;  you  are  old, 
good  Zuph,  and  the  aged  soon  grow  sleepy,  and  the 
sleepy  are  cross.  You  were  always  so  cross,  faith 
ful  Zuph,  when  past  your  bedtime!  Let  me  think 
and  think  in  the  quiet  night.  See!  God  has  set  His 
lamp  upon  the  hill  of  heaven." 

Adnah  heard  the  old  man  return  to  the  house, 
muttering  to  himself.  Presently  a  door  closed. 
Silence  succeeded.  He  listened  intently,  but  Mir 
iam  made  no  movement  which  his  eager  ears  could 
detect.  Only  that  wall  between  them,  after  years 


Miriam's  Voice  241 

of  longing  and  despair!  Adnah  remained  upon  his 
knees,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  moon  whose  light 
was  shared  by  Miriam. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  VOICE  OF  LOVE 

As  the  fugitive  knelt  in  Iddo's  court,  every  drop 
of  blood  tingling  with  the  consciousness  of 
Miriam's  near  presence,  his  mind  slipped  over  the 
rough  path  which  for  three  years  had  torn  his  feet. 
Swifter  than  the  flight  of  a  bird,  his  thoughts  flashed 
back  to  the  scene  on  the  Horns  of  Hattin  where  a 
man  of  about  thirty  years  sat  addressing  a  great 
multitude.  Again  he  heard  those  wonderful  words 
which  had  brought  him  the  greatest  happiness  in 
his  life;  "For  if  you  forgive  men  their  trespasses, 
your  heavenly  Father  will  also  forgive  you:  but  if 
you  forgive  not  men  their  trespasses,  neither  will 
your  Father  forgive  your  trespasses." 

In  the  tender  silence,  while  Miriam's  virgin  soul 
seemed  speaking  to  him  in  some  inexplicable  man 
ner,  and  the  moon  which  she  had  called  "dear," 
was  smiling  down  upon  those  two — just  those  two, 
Miriam  and  Adnah! — his  heart  grew  tender.  The 
intolerable  burden  of  hate  rolled  away  as  that 
divine  voice  continued  to  ring  in  his  ears;  "Love 

your  enemies;  bless  them  that  curse  you,  do  good 

242 


The  Voice  of  Love  243 

to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  which 
despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you,  that  you 
may  be  the  children  of  your  father  which  is  in 
heaven."  Again  Adnah  heard  the  tones  and  saw 
the  face  of  Jesus.  He  had  forgotten  Jesus, — he  had 
had  his  wrongs  to  think  about,  and  as  he  brooded 
over  them  they  became  large  enough  to  shut  out  all 
the  earth  and  heaven.  The  voice  of  Miriam  had 
changed  everything.  Before  the  dawn  of  day  he 
must  give  himself  up  to  captivity,  never  to  see  that 
maiden  who  sat  so  near  his  kneeling  form;  but 
now  all  was  different.  Happy  the  woman  whose 
unconscious  tones  makes  God  audible  to  ears  which 
have  ceased  to  hear  His  voice! 

"Oh  God,  I  thank  Thee,"  whispered  Adnah, 
"that  I  did  not  find  Iddo  here.  Oh  God,  take  from 
me  that  thirst  for  revenge  which  has  made  my  hard 
life  harder  all  these  years.  Oh  God,  help  me  to 
love  that  man,  that  I  may  call  Thee,  '  Father! ' " 

A  sound  reached  him  from  the  other  side  of  the 
fence.  It  was  the  light  passing  of  sandals  over  the 
pavement.  Adnah  clasped  his  hands  upon  his 
bosom  and  listened  as  to  the  footfalls  of  an  angel. 
Miriam  drew  nearer.  The  young  man  arose  and 
crept  to  the  wall,  his  bare  feet  making  no  sound. 
She  stood  just  on  the  other  side.  They  were 
divided  by  the  plank  which  had  fallen  that  first 


244  Adnah 

day,  three  years  ago,  leaving  them  face  to  face.  He 
could  hear  her  breathing.  If  he  could  call  her 
name,  if  he  could  look  into  her  face  again, — but  no! 
his  uncouth  appearance,  his  savage  attire,  and  the 
collar  of  shame  about  his  neck — no!  Reason  sealed 
his  lips. 

Miriam  knocked  gently  upon  the  plank.  His 
heart  bounded.  Did  she  know  he  was  there  ?  Im 
possible!  She,  too,  was  living  over  the  past. 
Why  did  she  go  back  to  that  long  ago?  The 
words  of  Gothinus  suddenly  rang  in  his  ears  with 
startling  distinctness:  "There  is  a  voice  of  love  for 
you  in  the  world;  are  your  ears  so  dull  they  have 
not  heard  it  calling  ?  "  What  had  Gothinus  meant  ? 
His  voice?  Surely  his  own  voice!  But  could  it 
be- 

Miriam  was  weeping.     He  heard  a  smothered  sob. 

He  heard  her  passing  her  hand  over  the  plank. 
Then  she  whispered  as  one  speaks  to  a  beloved 
form  which  memory  has  conjured  up  from  the 
dead —  ' '  Adnah  —  Adnah  —  Adnah  —  Adnah  —  Ad 
nah!" 

"Miriam!" 

She  was  answered  at  last.  Reason  still  held  her 
finger  upon  his  lips.  But  there  was  a  voice  of  love 
for  Miriam  in  the  world,  and  it  had  spoken. 

"Oh!"     Her  voice  sounded  sharp  and  startled, 


The  Voice  of  Love  245 

as  her  sorrow  was  shattered  into  fragments  of  fear 
and  wonder.  It  was  like  the  fall  of  a  thin  vase 
upon  marble. 

' '  Miriam  !  "  He  did  not  recognize  his  own  voice. 
It  was  as  if  a  heart-throb  had  made  itself  audible  in 
speech. 

She  whispered  the  name  of  God. 

"  Miriam, — it  is  Adnah!  " 

"Adnah?"  she  faltered,  bewildered,  her  voice 
sounding  as  one  whose  strength  has  suddenly 
failed.  "Adnah?"  she  said  again,  and  the  note  of 
faith  gave  strength  to  the  music  of  her  voice. 

"  Fear  nothing,  Miriam,  I  am  all  alone." 

"Fear?"  repeated  the  other,  her  tone  vibrating 
with  such  thrilling  gladness  that  its  broken  harmony 
was  akin  to  pain;  "ADNAH!" 

He  sobbed  aloud. 

"How  did  you  come?"  she  asked  in  a  low 
tone.  "How  long  have  you  been  here?"  Then 
she  wept  to  answer  his  sorrow.  ' '  I  thought  they  car 
ried  you  from  Judea,"  she  murmured.  "  I  thought 
you  and  your  father  were  slaves  of  Marcellus." 

"I  was  carried  to  Sicily,  I  was  his  slave;  but  I 
have  not  seen  my  father.  That  was  Iddo's  lie — that 
my  father  is  known  as  Galba  and  belongs  to 
Marcellus.  He  deceived  me  even  as  he  falsely  ac 
cused  me." 


246  Adnah 

"  I  know  you  are  innocent,"  said  Miriam.  "  But 
if  you  were  taken  to  Sicily  — 

"I  escaped;  I  am  here  in  hiding;  I  am  still  a 
slave,  Miriam." 

"But  we  will  clear  you;  Gothinus  will  prove 
how  Iddo  treated  you,  and  Lucius  will  testify  he 
lent  you  the  mule.  You  will  be  cleared,  Adnah!  " 

"No,  Miriam.  I  am  sold  to  another  master;  I 
have  run  away  from  him.  It  is  nothing  to  him 
whether  I  am  innocent  or  guilty;  I  am  his  prop 
erty." 

"But  you  have  escaped, — you  will  not  let  them 
find  you.  Oh,  Adnah! — if  you  will  stay  in  Iddo's 
home  till  they  cease  searching  for  you  — 

She  paused  and  there  was  silence  between  them 
till  she  added,  "  I  will  bring  you  food  through  this 
plank.  .  .  .  Do  you  remember  ?" 

"Could  I  forget,  Miriam  ?  " 

"  Then  when  they  have  given  you  up,  I  will  slip 
you  some  disguise  and  you  shall  go  forth  under 
another  name  and  hunt  your  father.  And  if  you 
ever  find  him — I  have  thought  it  all  out,  year  after 
year — you  will  go  with  him  to  Pilate.  For  your 
sake  he  will  accuse  Iddo,  who  is  even  now  im 
prisoned  for  conspiracy.  Then  you  will  be  free  to 
go  where  you  please." 

''Here,"    said    Adnah    softly.      He    saw   it    all 


The  Voice  of  Love  247 

as  in  a  dream, — as  in  a  dream  that  could  never 
be. 

"But  how  can  you  get  the  food  to  me?"  he 
asked. 

"  This  plank  is  still  unfastened.  Do  you  remem 
ber  that  day  ?  But  you  said.  .  .  .  Will  you 
tell  me  something  of  your  life  ?  We  are  alone,  and 
no  one  will  come  till  morning,  at  least  until  they 
find  the  thief;  father  and  Reuben  are  searching  for 
a  runaway  thief.  Strange,  strange,  strange!  Here 
we  stand  and  talk  with  the  gate  between  us  just  as 

we  did.  .  .  .  Just  as  I  was  imagining Did 

you  hear  me  knock  upon  the  plank — our  plank  ?  " 

"  Yes — and  did  you  hear  my  heart,  Miriam  ?" 

"  Did  it  remind  you,  Adnah  ?  " 

"Oh,  Miriam,  I  love  you,  I  love  you!" 

Again  there  was  silence,  broken  presently  by  a 
timid  voice  in  which  laughter  and  tears  were 
mingled;  "  Has  the  thought  of  me  been  a  flower  in 
your  life,  Adnah  ?  " 

"Miriam,  let  me  see  your  face  once — but  once! 
I  will  remove  this  plank  — 

"  No,  no,  no!  I  am  all  alone.  No,  Adnah,  I  say, 
no! " 

He  made  no  answer.  Suddenly  he  remembered 
his  condition;  he  had  forgotten  himself  in  his  pas 
sionate  love. 


248  Adnah 

"Adnah,"  she  said  timidly,  "you  are  not  of 
fended?" 

"No." 

"Because, — you  will  stay  there  a  long  time,  and 
of  course  you  will  see  me — if  you  want  to  see  me — 
often.  I  will  be  upon  the  house-top  every  evening. 
And  when  it  is  day, — not  late  at  night  as  now, — 
sometimes  when  all  are  gone  I  will  bring  you  food; 
then  you  will  see  me — do  you  remember  ? — Dates 
— bread — cold  mutton — and — and  — 

"And  an  angel,"  said  Adnah  gently;  "yes,  I  re 
member,  Miriam.  It  was  so  long  ago!  Oh,  Mir 
iam,  those  three  years  in  Sicily!  I  was  forbidden  to 
speak  to  any  one — even  to  the  vilest  outcast, — until  I 
should  agree  to  join  a  band  for  plundering.  1  was 
starved  because  I  would  not  steal.  Miriam,  I  had  only 
the  meat  that  my  dog  would  not  eat.  I  slept  as  I 
might,  on  sodden  straw,  the  rains  pouring  upon  me 
and  my  dog ;  we  two  were  comrades — poor '  Friend ! ' 
I  called  him  '  Friend.'  Year  after  year  ...  no 
hope  .  .  .  starvation  .  .  .  cruelty  from 
the  overseer  .  .  .  the  dog's  meat! " 

"But  you  did  not  steal!"  cried  Miriam  fiercely. 
"  You  never,  never  became  a  brigand,  Adnah!  " 

"Never.     God  bless  you,  Miriam!  " 

"I  know  you  never  did!  "  she  said.  "  You  would 
rather  have  died,  Adnah.  You  would  prove  your- 


The  Voice  of  Love  249 

self  worthy  of  your  father,  of  your  father  whom 
wicked  Iddo  allows  to  bear  his  crime." 

"  Yes,  Miriam." 

"  Adnah,  you  may  remove  the  plank  if  you  de 
sire." 

"  It  is  better  not,"  he  answered  hurriedly. 

"  Why  do  you  say  so  ?    Then  you  were  offended." 

"  Oh  no,  how  could  you  off  end  me?  But — but — 
you  are  alone,  Miriam — and — it  is  late." 

"I  am  not  afraid  to  be  alone  with  you,  Adnah." 

He  wrung  his  hands.  "  And  I  grew  to  hate  Iddo, 
Miriam,  to  hate  him  as  I  hated  in  my  youth.  I 
longed  for  revenge.  I  would  have  killed  him.  It 
was  the  sound  of  your  voice  as  you  talked  to  Zuph 
which  reminded  me  of  Jesus.  But  all  that  is  gone. 
I  do  not  wish  to  do  Iddo  an  injury.  I  do  not  wish 
him  to  receive  injuries  from  the  hands  of  others. 
God  have  mercy  upon  him!  I  wonder,  Miriam,  if 
you  ever  watched  the  moon  and  thought  of  me 
while  I,  at  the  same  time,  lay  upon  the  ground  in 
Sicily,  watching  it,  forgetting  my  rags  and  my 
wounds,  and  thinking  of  you  ?  But  what  are  you 
doing,  Miriam?  "he  asked  suddenly,  in  a  tone  of 
alarm. 

"I  will  remove  the  plank,"  she  said;  "it  was  I 
who  first  threw  it  to  the  ground — that  day." 

"But  no,  oh  no,  Miriam,  you  must  not.     I  com- 


250  Adnah 

mand  you  not  to  move  the  plank!  "  he  cried  des 
perately. 

"  But  1  do  not  obey  your  commands,"  she  re 
torted;  "you  must  never  command  me,  Adnah,  I 
do  not  like  commands.  And  you  cannot  prevent 
me,  for  the  plank  falls  upon  my  side  and  you  have  no 
way  to  hold  it  back." 

"  But  hear  me,  Miriam — hear  reason — listen  to 
my  reason! " 

"  You  do  not  wish  to  see  me  then,  Adnah  ?" 

"  Wait,  Miriam,  wait!  " 

"  But  I  wish  to  see  you!  "  she  said. 

"  Will  you  hear  me  first  ?" 

"I  know  I  was  thinking  of  you  whenever  you 
thought  of  me,"  she  said;  "  1  do  not  believe  I  missed 
one  time! " 

"  Hear  me,  Miriam!  I  am  the  fugitive  your  father 
and  brother  are  seeking.  I  am  the  one  they  call  the 
runaway  thief." 

"  You,  Adnah  ?" 

"I.    They  search  all  Capernaum  for  me." 

"  But  you  and  I  know  you  are  not  a  thief.  That 
is  no  reason  to  keep  the  gate  between  us." 

"There  is  more.  I  am  frightful  to  behold.  If 
you  should  see  me  in  my  wolves'-skins,  my  hair 
long  and  barbarous,  my  feet  burned  and  bleeding, 
my  bare  arms  scarred  and  torn, — you  would  despise 


The  Voice  of  Love  251 

me,  Miriam.  And  around  my  neck  is  the  iron  collar 
of  a  runaway.  You  shall  never  see  me,  never,  never, 
Miriam,  with  this  band  welded  about  my  throat  as 
if  I  were  a  dog!  " 

The  plank  fell  to  the  ground. 

Adnah  started  away  with  a  low  cry,  snatching  up 
his  rude  garment  with  an  agitated  hand  that  he 
might  draw  it  over  the  collar  of  shame.  He  heard 
a  footstep  behind  him.  Miriam  had  entered  Iddo's 
court.  He  paused  in  his  flight. 

"Will  you  not  look  at  me,  Adnah  ?"  came  her 
voice  sadly.  Slowly  he  turned  and  looked  through 
the  hair  that  hung  over  his  forehead,  still  clutching 
the  covering  about  his  throat.  The  moonlight  was 
full  upon  them  both.  It  showed  the  red  tide  of 
shame  in  his  cheeks,  the  red  tide  of  confusion  in 
hers.  Both  were  abashed,  and  at  first  neither  looked 
into  the  other's  face.  Adnah  was  the  first  to  raise 
his  eyes.  He  felt  a  shock  of  surprise,  for  she  was 
changed;  she  was  a  young  girl  no  longer.  Then 
came  passionate  admiration ;  for  her  youth  had  made 
no  promise  of  grace,  beauty  or  purity  which  her 
maturity  did  not  fulfil. 

"Wonderful!"  he  whispered,  and  for  a  moment 
he  forgot  his  wretchedness. 

"  I  see  the  dress  of  wolves'-skins,"  said  Miriam 
softly,  "and  your  hair  is  long  and  barbarous,  Ad- 


252  Adnah 

nah;  but  I  do  not  despise  you.  Will  you  not  come 
to  me  ?  or  must  I  follow  you  ?  " 

He  came  and  knelt  before  her.  But  he  was 
painfully  conscious  of  his  unworthiness.  She  laid 
her  hand  upon  his,  and  he  trembled.  Her  grasp 
tightened  and  strove  to  push  his  hand  down, — that 
hand  which  held  the  garment  about  the  iron  band. 
He  resisted  even  while  the  touch  of  the  soft  warm 
fingers  thrilled  him  with  ecstasy. 

"Adnah!"  she  pleaded,  pushing  with  all  her 
might. 

His  arm,  rigid  as  steel,  kept  the  wild  dress  in 
place. 

"Adnah!"  she  panted,  pushing  upon  his  proud 
clenched  hand  with  both  of  her  little  palms.  "If 
you  love  me,  Adnah!" 

He  looked  up,  then,  but  his  grasp  did  not  relent. 

"  Adnah!    It  is  because  I  love  you." 

His  hand  fell  away  like  that  of  a  little  child 
caught  in  the  grasp  of  a  strong  master.  The  dress 
of  wolves'-skins  dropped  upon  his  shoulders.  The 
iron  collar  gleamed  in  the  moonlight.  The  lovely 
head  of  the  maiden  bent  over  the  shaggy  head  of 
the  slave,  and  the  lips  of  Miriam  printed  a  kiss  upon 
the  band  of  shame  welded  about  Adnah's  neck. 
The  next  moment  love  spread  her  wings  of  fear. 
Adnah  with  a  cry  started  up,  his  arms  outspread. 


The  Voice  of  Love  253 

But  Miriam  had  fled.  She  did  not  wait  for  him, 
but  lifted  the  plank  in  its  place.  Adnah,  his  brain 
whirling,  rushed  to  the  fence,  and  whispered  her 
name. 

"  Good-night!  "  came  a  soft  voice. 

"Miriam!  "  he  whispered  passionately. 

"Good-night,  Adnah." 

"My  Father!"  murmured  Adnah,  looking  up 
ward. 

"  Good-night,  dear,  dear  Adnah,"  came  her 
voice. 

"Good-bye,  Miriam, — good-bye!" 

"  Until  to-morrow,"  she  added. 

He  made  no  answer. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

GOTHINUS 

"  BUT,  my  lord,  the  old  woman  saw  them  to 
gether." 

"The  old  woman!"  cried  Lucius  the  centurion 
impatiently,  as  he  confronted  Reuben.  "This  is 
too  much!  to  be  called  from  my  bed  to  hear  a 
charge  against  Gothinus  preferred  by  some  old 
woman! " 

"But,  my  lord " 

"I  know,  I  know  very  well,  Reuben,  your  hos 
tility  towards  poor  Gothinus;  and  why?  Because 
he  is  not  a  Jew.  I,  too,  am  a  gentile,  but  you 
come  to  me,  you  seek  my  friendship.  But  I  was 
never  a  slave, — I  am  not  poor  and  dependent, — ah, 
Reuben  ?" 

A  flush  darkened  the  face  of  Miriam's  brother, 
but  he  controlled  himself.  "My  lord,  you  accuse 
me." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Lucius  hastily,  "perhaps  I  do 
not  know  what  I  say, — to  be  dragged  from  bed  to 
listen  to  the  tale  of  an  old  woman!  And  against 

the  faithfulest  lad  in  Capernaum, — Jew  or  gentile!  " 

254 


Gothinus  255 

"But  I  can  testify  that  Gothinus  bade  us  not 
search  that  street,"  said  the  young  priest.  "And 
when  I  expressed  my  opinion  that  the  thief  was 
Adnah,  he  said  never  a  word.  He  was  Adnah's 
friend,  and  so  was  anxious  to  shield  him." 

"Were  he  Adnah's  brother,"  cried  Lucius,  "he 
would  not  protect  him,  a  runaway  slave,  from  the 
Roman  law.  What!  Have  1  nourished  Gothinus 
from  a  helpless  babe,  favored  him  in  all  things,  even 
to  the  extent  of  granting  him  his  liberty,  that  he 
might  dishonor  me  ?  Could  he,  a  man  of  honor 
(though  a  barbarian),  find  it  in  his  noble  heart  to 
aid  a  fugitive  whom  he  had  been  commissioned  by 
me  to  pursue  and  capture?" 

"But,  my  lord,  will  you  not  at  least  send  for 
Gothinus  and  question  him  ?" 

"  By  the  God  of  the  Jews!  "  cried  Lucius,  "you 
will  make  a  famous  priest,  Reuben.  You  are  a 
Sadducee  born,  not  made!  You  will  not  believe  in 
the  resurrection,  after  you  have  risen  from  the 
dead!" 

They  stood  in  the  court  of  the  garrison  in  which 
Lucius  had  taken  up  his  quarters.  The  centurion 
called  a  soldier  and  sent  for  Gothinus,  and,  until  ap 
proaching  footsteps  were  heard,  no  further  words 
were  exchanged  between  the  Roman  and  the  Jew. 
The  moonlight  was  struggling  against  the  dawning 


256  Adnah 

of  the  morning,  as  if  each  would  be  master  of  the 
world. 

"Gothinus,"  said  the  centurion  in  an  affectionate 
tone,  "you  were  near  at  hand." 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

"  You  have  not  been  away  upon  the  search  ?" 

"Not  since  I  last  saw  Reuben." 

Lucius  was  surprised. 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  Reuben  coolly,  "he  found 
no  further  need  of  searching." 

"Gothinus,"  said  Lucius  hastily,  "it  is  reported 
that  you  were  seen  whispering  to  a  fugitive  in  a 
street;  that  you  made  no  attempt  to  arrest  him  after 
you  had  once  seen  his  face;  and  that  this  fugitive 
answers  the  description  of  the  runaway  thief." 

"It  is  true,"  answered  Gothinus. 

"  True?  "  echoed  Lucius  loudly. 

"True!"  sneered  Reuben. 

"Gothinus,  do  you  know  what  you  say  ?  Have 
you  aided  a  runaway  slave  to  elude  pursuit?" 

"It  was  Adnah,"  cried  Reuben, — "Adnah  was 
his  friend." 

"Gothinus,  Gothinus!  And  do  you  think,"  said 
his  master  sternly,  "that  my  former  kindness  will 
protect  you  from  the  terrible  punishment  your 
crime  merits  ?  " 

"Hear  me,  my  lord,"  said  Gothinus  quietly.     "I 


Gothinus  257 

saw  a  form  advancing  to  meet  me  in  a  narrow 
street,  and  I  recognized  the  runaway.  I  sprang 
from  my  horse  to  make  the  arrest,  and  saw  his 
face;  it  was  Adnah." 

"The  son  of  a  thief,"  muttered  Reuben. 

"What  then?"  cried  Lucius  fiercely  to  his  for 
mer  slave.  His  endeavor  to  hide  his  pain  made  his 
manner  cruel. 

"We  know  Adnah  was  innocent,"  continued 
Gothinus,  unmoved  by  Reuben's  disdain  and  his 
master's  anger.  "It  was  your  mule  he  rode  into 
Jerusalem,  and  I  heard  Iddo  confess  that  the  father 
was  not  a  thief.  We  know  they  had  no  right  to 
sell  Adnah  to  Marcellus." 

"What  then?"  retorted  Lucius,  "he  was  sold, 
and  sold  again!  He  has  not  been  manumitted  nor 
was  his  freedom  bought  by  the  government  or  by  his 
friends;  yet  in  his  servile  condition,  he  runs  away. 
Who  should  know  the  laws  of  slavery  better  than 
you,  a  former  slave  ?  Why  do  you  speak  to  me  of 
Adnah's  innocence  ?  It  was  nothing  to  you  if  he 
were  Adnah  or  no;  he  is  a  runaway,  and  your  crime 
is  manifest  from  your  own  lips." 

"  But  my  knowledge  that  it  was  Adnah  gave  me 
a  kind  feeling  for  him,"  said  Gothinus.  "He 
craved  a  brief  time,  a  respite,  promising  to  come  to 
me  and  give  himself  up  when  he  had  accomplished 


258  Adnah 

his  object.  He  will  come.  I  am  not  afraid  Adnah 
will  betray  me." 

"Miserable  fool!"  groaned  Lucius.  "And  you 
really  believe  he  will  surrender  his  liberty  for  a 
word  ?  " 

"  I  believe  it!  " 

Reuben  laughed  bitterly.  "  The  son  of  a  thief!  " 
he  exclaimed. 

"  What  was  his  '  object'  ?  "  questioned  Lucius. 

"To  avenge  his  wrongs  upon  Iddo.  When  he 
finds  Iddo  is  gone,  and  after  he  has  looked  upon  his 
home  again,  and  brought  back  his  boyhood  and— 
and  —  But  if  he  does  not  return,  I  freely  offer 
you  my  life!" 

"Miserable  Gothinus!"  cried  Lucius  desperately, 
"did  you  tell  him  your  life  depended  upon  his 
keeping  this  wild  pledge  ?  " 

"No,  dear  master,  I  neither  insisted  upon  his 
keeping  it,  nor  did  I  ask  him  to  make  it." 

"Was  his  oath  one  of  terrible  solemnity?" 

"He  made  no  oath,  no  vow,  my  lord." 

"Are  you  prepared  to  die,  Gothinus?" 

"No,  my  lord,  I  am  waiting  for  Adnah's  return. 
But  if  I  could  die  and  thus  procure  for  Admih  the 
happiness  that  might  have  been  his, — yet  not  for  his 
sake,  but  because  I  love  another  — 

"  I  understand  you,  I  understand!  "  hissed  Reuben 


Gothinus  259 

with  a  look  of  fury.  "  But  think  it  not,  O  false 
slave!  Neither  for  any  gentile  nor  for  any  thief  is 
that  happiness,  but  for  one  of  the  most  highly  hon 
ored  of  the  Sanhedrim!  " 

At  this  moment  a  voice  from  the  gateway  called, 
"  Gothinus! " 

"  He  has  come!  "  said  the  German  as  he  hastened 
to  the  gate.  In  its  shadow  stood  Adnah.  Gothinus 
threw  his  arm  about  the  dishonored  neck  and  whis 
pered  in  the  fugitive's  ear,  "  Did  you  see  her, — O, 
did  you  speak  to  her,  Adnah  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  yes!  thank  God— and  Gothinus!" 

"The  guard!  the  guard!"  shouted  Lucius,  wild 
with  exultant  surprise.  "Men,  ho!  Spread  the 
tidings, — he  is  found!  Bind  and  guard  him.  The 
couriers, — let  them  be  brought.  Come  hither, 
Gothinus,  and  let  me  embrace  you.  But  it  was  a 
terrible  risk!  How  could  you  trust  your  life  in  the 
hands  of  any  man  ?" 

Gothinus  looked  at  the  prisoner  whose  white  but 
serene  face  was  turned  lovingly  upon  him  and  an 
swered,  "  He  has  listened  to  the  voice  of  Jesus!  " 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ADNAH   AND  IDDO 

IN  the  prison  floor  was  a  narrow  iron  door.  It 
was  raised,  revealing  black  space.  The  beams  of  a 
torch  showed  Adnah  a  rusty  ladder  leading  down 
into  the  dungeon.  "Descend!"  said  one  of  the 
guard. 

Adnah  crept  partly  down  the  cold  ladder.  The 
door  fell  into  its  place  overhead  and  bars  were 
drawn  to  secure  it.  He  was  in  the  midst  of  im 
penetrable  darkness,  clinging  to  the  rounds,  afraid 
to  go  lower  into  unknown  depths,  among  un 
known  dangers.  Here  was  the  end  of  his  long 
journey, — the  flight  and  the  capture.  Now  he 
could  rest  his  bleeding  feet;  he  was  in  Jerusalem; 
in  a  few  days  he  was  destined  to  face  the  gladiator 
in  the  amphitheatre.  Here  was  the  closing  chapter 
of  the  evil  Iddo  had  wrought.  Loss  of  liberty,  of 
happiness,  of  life, — all  this  he  owed  his  uncle.  But 
he  felt  for  the  Pharisee  neither  the  dull  despairing 
hate  which  had  threatened  to  brutalize  his  soul  in 
Sicily,  nor  the  deadly,  ungovernable  fury  which  had 

driven  him  to  Capernaum.     "  If  you  love  them  that 

260 


Adnah  and  Iddo  261 

love  you,  what  is  your  reward?"  Certainly  Iddo 
would  never  reward  him.  From  whom,  then,  could 
he  expect  a  blessing?  "Love  your  enemies  that 
you  may  be  the  children  of  your  Father  who  is  in 
heaven." 

Adnah  had  found  a  father  at  last,  and  with  un 
questioning  faith  he  gave  God  all  the  love  and 
service  which  is  a  father's  due.  Only  he  who  for 
gives  his  enemies  can  claim  that  heavenly  King  as 
Father, — how  few!  thought  Adnah,  are  His  children 
in  the  world!  Yet  he,  an  outcast,  a  miserable 
prisoner,  a  slave  with  the  iron  band  of  a  runaway 
about  his  throat, — he  was  a  child  of  God!  He  be 
lieved  God  was  conscious  of  his  sorrows,  and  pitied 
him  even  as  Samuel  would  have  pitied,  had  he 
known.  He  believed  that  when  he  whispered 
"My  Father,"  his  voice  penetrated  the  dungeon 
walls  and  reached  the  ear  of  God. 

"  1  do  not  ask  you  to  save  my  life,"  he  murmured. 
"You  can  do  everything  for  your  children,  but 
everything  is  not  good  for  them.  Give  me  courage 
to  die, — that  is  all.  And  watch  over  my  other 
father  wherever  he  may  be;  give  him  an  easy  life 
and  quiet  thoughts  of  me." 

What  prisoner  is  not  eager  to  learn  the  limits  of 
his  captivity  ?  At  last  Adnah  lost  his  dread  of  the 
gloom,  and  crept  down  to  the  floor.  It  was  wet 


262  Adnah 

and  slippery.  With  outstretched  arms  he  began  an 
exploration  of  the  dungeon.  The  walls  as  well  as 
the  floor,  were  of  smooth  stones,  so  skilfully  fitted 
together  that  each  side  of  the  apartment  seemed  one 
huge  slippery  block.  His  bare  feet  were  chilled, 
his  fingers,  as  they  slipped  along,  were  numbed, 
while  cold  drops  of  water  ran  down  upon  his  arms. 
In  one  side  he  found  an  iron  grating.  He  clung  to 
it  and  stared  with  painful  fixedness  through  the 
little  apertures;  no  light  was  visible.  When  he 
reached  the  ladder  he  knew  he  had  made  a  circuit 
of  the  chamber.  Falling  upon  hands  and  knees  he 
started  across  the  floor  diagonally,  that  he  might  know 
his  prison  thoroughly.  He  had  not  gone  very  far 
when  his  outstretched  hand  failed  to  find  the  floor 
beneath  it.  His  weight  was  thrown  upon  the  edge 
of  an  opening,  from  which  he  shrank  with  a  cry  of 
horror.  Far  below  him  came  the  murmur  of  water. 
With  a  sickened  heart  he  returned  to  the  ladder  and 
lay  upon  the  reeking  floor,  shuddering  at  the  mem 
ory  of  his  danger. 

Presently  he  spoke  aloud:  "  My  Father,  you  were 
so  good  to  me  that  night!  Isn't  she  beautiful!  You 
know  how  I  love  her!  Were  you  listening  when 
she  said  '  I  love  you '  ?  But  I  know  you  were.  I 
think  the  angels  all  smiled  when  she  said,  '  I  love 
you!'  And  you  knew  it  all  the  time!  You  knew  it 


Adnah  and  Iddo  263 

when  I  was  in  Sicily  with  poor  '  Friend,'  and  when 
I  wanted  to  die.  Did  you  try  to  tell  me  with  the 
flowers  and  stars?  I  hated  the  flowers;  and  I 
thought  the  stars  were  laughing  at  my  misery.  So 
little  did  I  know  you!  " 

He  ceased  speaking.  The  cold  and  damp  seemed 
to  penetrate  to  the  bone.  He  got  up  and  began  to 
walk  back  and  forth,  always  careful  not  to  approach 
the  mysterious  opening.  He  hoped  to  warm  him 
self  with  the  exercise,  but  he  was  too  weary  to  per 
severe.  Presently  he  sank  upon  the  floor.  "My 
Father,"  he  said  plaintively,  "I  cannot  keep  from 
shivering,  I  am  so  very  weak.  But  I  am  not  com 
plaining.  You  know  why  I  must  be  here,  and  that 
is  enough  for  me.  I  know  you  love  me,  because  I 
have  forgiven  Iddo,  and  I  would  like  to  tell  him  so. 
If  he  is  ever  sorry  for  what  he  has  done,  will  you 
make  him  feel  happy  ?  I  wish  you  would  make  a 
good  man  out  of  Iddo." 

A  sudden  clashing  sound  smote  upon  his  ears. 
It  came  from  the  middle  of  the  room.  Adnah  cried 
out  at  the  startling  noise.  Silence  ensued. 

What  had  happened  ?  Could  it  be  that  he  was  not 
alone?  He  called  and  there  was  no  response.  He  be 
gan  to  crawl  in  the  direction  of  the  interruption,  fear 
ful  of  what  he  might  find,  yet  unable  to  endure  his 
wild  conjectures.  The  cause  was  soon  apparent. 


264  Adnah 

The  opening  in  the  floor  had  been  closed.  How, 
and  for  what  purpose  were  mysteries.  He  returned 
to  the  ladder. 

"My  Father,"  he  said,  "sometimes  I  forget  that 
you  are  watching  over  me."  Then  he  added,  "It 
is  such  a  comfort  to  talk  aloud  to  you  and  know  that  I 
am  not  alone!  And  you  always  have  time  for  me." 

There  burst  upon  his  ears  the  splashing  of  water. 
Then  he  understood.  The  grating  in  the  wall  was 
for  the  admission  of  water;  the  opening  in  the 
floor  had  been  closed  to  hold  in  the  flood.  Death 
by  drowning!  A  steady  stream  thundered  upon  the 
floor,  an  icy  wave  floated  to  his  feet.  Adnah  leaped 
up  and  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  ladder.  He  beat 
his  hands  upon  the  iron  door  overhead,  he  shouted 
madly.  There  was  no  answer  but  the  thunder  of 
the  water.  As  its  sound  grew  less,  his  terror  in 
creased.  The  lessening  sound  meant  that  the  flood 
was  reaching  the  level  of  the  hole  in  the  wall.  At 
last  all  sound  ceased.  It  was  rising  silently,  that 
black  pool,  it  was  climbing  the  ladder. 

"My  Father!"  cried  Adnah  suddenly.  The 
touch  of  death  had  kissed  his  feet.  But  after  that, 
it  came  no  higher.  With  cautious  step  he  discov 
ered  that  the  tide  was  receding.  The  opening  in 
the  floor  was  letting  the  water  escape.  For  this  time, 
at  least,  he  was  saved. 


Adnah  and  Iddo  265 

While  still  he  clung  to  the  ladder,  the  door  above 
his  head  was  lifted  up,  and  a  light  glared  into  his 
eyes.  A  face  looked  in, — the  face  of  the  soldier 
who  had  arrested  him  three  years  ago;  but  he  was 
blinded  by  the  torch  and  did  not  recognize  the 
merry  soldier. 

"Why!  here  is  the  fellow,  like  a  rat  in  a  trap!" 
said  the  merry  soldier  to  an  unseen  companion, 
"clinging  to  the  roof  of  his  cage.  Down  with 
you,  rat!  We  have  another  rat  here  to  squeak  with 
you  for  company." 

"Mercy!"  cried  Adnah.  "Death  is  in  this 
dungeon! " 

"Death?  What  more  do  you  expect?  Out  of 
the  way!  you  thieves  thirst  for  other  people's 
property, — now  slake  your  thirst,  we  will  send  you 
plenty  of  water!"  Adnah  climbed,  shuddering  to 
the  ground  to  escape  the  weapon  that  threatened 
him.  The  second  Roman  descended  the  ladder 
while  the  first  held  the  torch.  The  former  carried 
a  burden  in  his  arms. 

"A  curse  upon  the  fate,"  cried  the  man  on  the 
ladder,  "  which  made  me  a  Jew's  packhorse!  " 

"You  are  never  content!"  remonstrated  the 
other;  "do  I  not  hold  the  light  while  you  do  the 
work  ?  As  for  your  Jew,  it  is  nothing  but  bone 
and  Pharisee.' " 


266  Adnah 

The  burden  in  the  soldier's  brawny  arms  quivered, 
and  found  a  voice.  "  Mercy,  mercy,  mercy!  I  will 
see  Pilate,  I  must  see  Pilate!  I  am  innocent,  inno 
cent, — I  say  I  am  innocent  of  conspiracy.  I  have 
an  explanation  to  make  — 

"Silence!"  shouted  the  man  who  bore  him.  "It 
is  enough  to  feel  your  Jew's  flesh  against  my  bosom. 
By  Minerva,  who  is  a  wise  lady,  I  will  cast  you 
upon  your  head  if  this  same  head  does  not  couch  its 
tongue  for  the  night!" 

"  For  shame,"  cried  the  man  who  held  the  torch, 
"to  speak  of  Minerva  so  lightly, —she  who  is  a 
goddess,  as  Tiberius  is  a  god!  As  for  the  fellow's 
explanation,  he  can  make  it  in  the  arena." 

"  You  will  kill  me,  me  who  am  a  great  man  in 
Israel!"  wailed  the  Pharisee  as  he  was  dropped 
heavily  upon  the  floor. 

"Not  we,"  retorted  the  torch-bearer.  "Come  up, 
comrade.  Nay,  not  we,  old  bones!  Why  should 
we  wish  to  kill  a  shadow?  How  could  we  hate 
you  ?  Hate  is  too  great  a  stone  to  throw  at  so 
weak  a  bird.  But  there  is  a  rat  in  your  cage  who 
may  gnaw  your  bonds  loose.  You  have  heard  of 
him.  Adnah,  here  is  Iddo;  Iddo,  here  is  Adnah. 
Good-night!  " 

The  door  closed  overhead. 

" Iddo!  "  exclaimed  Adnah. 


Adnah  and  Iddo  267 

A  despairing  shriek  burst  from  Iddo's  throat, — an 
inarticulate  cry  of  frenzied  terror.  It  filled  the  dun 
geon,  making  the  darkness  more  awful. 

"  Speak  to  me,  Iddo,  that  I  may  find  you,"  said 
the  young  man,  feeling  along  the  slippery  floor. 

"  Mercy — mercy — what  are  you  ?  His  voice!  It 
cannot  be!  But  mercy,  man  or — or  fiend — or 
angel, — oh! " 

Adnah's  hand  had  found  his  arm.  Iddo  tried  to 
shrink  away,  but  he  was  bound  hand  and  foot,  and 
could  scarce  cringe  under  the  grasp. 

"  Iddo,  it  is  I,  your  brother's  son."  Adnah  gently 
lifted  up  the  head  of  his  enemy  and  rested  it  upon 
his  knee. 

"  Mercy — mercy—  "  stammered  Iddo,  trying  to 
draw  his  head  away.  "  Pity — pity — I  am  an  old 
man  — 

"  Do  not  fear,"  said  Adnah,  "  you  are  my  friend 
because  I  am  your  enemy." 

"  Is  it  Adnah  ?  "  came  the  agonized  voice. 

"  Do  you  not  know  my  voice,  Iddo  ?  " 

Iddo  shrieked  again  in  quavering  tones. 

"It  is  Adnah,  but  much  more  than  Adnah,  my 
friend, — my  uncle;  it  is  Adnah  with  the  words  of 
Jesus  living  in  his  heart.  It  is  Adnah  who  has  two 
fathers;  one,  a  slave,  the  other,  the  King  of 
Heaven." 


268  Adnah 

"  Adnah — Adnah — I  am  at  your  mercy.  Oh 
spare  me,  do  not  kill  me,  who  am  of  your  own 
blood.  What  will  you  do  to  me,  Adnah,  what  will 
you  do  ?  Beat  me,  despise  me  as  you  will,  but  let 
me  live!  1  will  crawl  at  your  command, — I  will 
kiss  your  feet, — you  shall  have  my  body  for  your 
pillow, — but,  oh,  grant  me  my  life,  Adnah!  What 
will  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  am  trying  to  love  you,  Iddo;  I  am  trying  my 
very  best;  but  you  do  make  it  so  hard  for  me!  " 

"  I  accused  you  falsely,  Adnah,  I  suffered  you  to 
be  sold  into  captivity,  and  carried  from  the  land  of 
our  fathers.  I  suffered  a  Roman  to  become  your 
master.  I  bribed  false  witnesses.  I  lied  at  your 
trial, — 1  thought  you  would  never  return.  I  believed 
you  would  die  in  a  foreign  country!  " 

"  I  know  all  this,  Iddo." 

"But  spare  me,  Adnah,  hate  me,  but  do  not 
kill." 

"  Fear  nothing,"  said  his  nephew. 

"  I  made  your  youth  a  time  of  torture.  I  starved 
you,  beat  you,  wished  for  your  death.  You  would 
not  die!  You  were  always  sickly,  pale,  weak, — 
but  you  would  not  die.  And  I  wanted  you  to  die. 
I  hated  you.  I  entombed  you  in  the  cave.  You 
said  you  forgave  me." 

"  I  did  forgive  you." 


Adnah  and  Iddo  269 

"Then,  when  you  freed  me, — after  you  had 
given  me  that  blessing, — how  did  I  reward  you  ?  I 
sold  you  as  a  thief!  " 

"Do  not  speak  of  that;  it  is  forgiven,  too." 

"You  mean — Adnah,  do  you  mean  that  after 
all, — and  though  you  are  here  because  of  me, — 
still " 

"  Yes;  I  forgive  you  everything." 

"You  cannot,  Adnah.  What  is  your  purpose? 
What  will  you  do  to  me  ?  " 

"  Iddo,  I  have  been  very  wicked  since  you  stood 
at  my  trial;  I  have  forgotten  God  and  craved  for 
vengeance.  Yet  my  Father  will  forgive  me;  He  has 
forgiven  although  there  was  murder  in  my  heart. 
But  how  ?  Only  as  I  forgive  you.  There  must  be 
peace  between  me  and  God;  but  there  cannot  be 
peace,  unless  I  love  you,  too.  A  man's  enemy 
always  stands  between  him  and  God.  One  little 
cloud  of  hate  will  shut  out  all  the  glory  of  heaven. 
I  must  love  you,  Iddo,  I  'will  love  you!  Now — I 
kiss  your  brow,  poor  Iddo!  so  unhappy,  so  weak, 
so  erring,  so  hard  to  comprehend!  I  do  love 
you." 

Iddo  sobbed.  Presently  he  faltered,  "Whence 
this  strange  philosophy  ?  " 

"  From  Jesus  of  Nazareth ;  but  He  would  not  have 
called  His  simple  words  by  so  hard  a  name.  I 


2jo  Adnah 

heard  His  sermon  on  the  Horns  of  Hattin.  He  is  the 
Christ.  Shall  I  tell  you  a  few  things  He  said  ?  " 

"No,  Adnah,  I  am  afraid." 

"Afraid  of  Jesus  ?  Why!  He  raises  people  from 
their  deathbeds.  He  healed  Simon  the  leper.  You 
cannot  be  afraid  of  Him,  for  if  He  has  any  business, 
it  seems  to  be  just  doing  good." 

"  He  was  not  a  Pharisee,"  said  Iddo. 

"  A  great  man  belongs  to  all  parties,"  said  Adnah. 
"You  are  a  Pharisee  with  all  your  heart;  but  you 
would  be  shocked  to  hear  it  said  God  is  a  Pharisee, 
— would  you  not?  And  Jesus  is  the  Christ." 

"No,  no,  never!"  cried  Iddo  violently.  "  I  tell 
you  He  is  not  the  Christ!  Have  you  not  heard  what 
has  happened  in  Jerusalem  ?  Jesus  is  dead.  He 
was  crucified  not  many  weeks  ago." 

"Jesus  is  dead?"  echoed  Adnah  in  horror. 
"Dead?  How  could  He  die?  Oh,  Iddo,  Iddo, 
these  are  false  words!  Can  God  still  ask  me  to 
love  you,  when  you  slander  His  son  ?" 

"He  is  dead,"  repeated  Iddo  solemnly. 

"Has  the  hope  of  ages  perished?"  returned  the 
other  skeptically.  "  Do  you,  who  know  the  law, 
imagine  death  could  overtake  the  Son  of  David  be 
fore  He  had  accomplished  His  mission  ?  Jesus  is 
the  King  of  the  Jews.  Soon  He  will  sit  in  His  pal 
ace  and  judge  the  world.  Rome  will  come  under 


Adnah  and   Iddo  271 

His  dominion;  He  will  rule  over  empires  as  well  as 
diseases!  " 

"  But,  Adnah,  as  I  pray  for  mercy  at  your  hands, 
— Jesus  is  dead." 

"  No,"  was  the  answer,  "  it  is  impossible!  " 

"  But  He  is  not  the  Christ,  Adnah." 

Adnah  laid  the  Pharisee's  head  upon  the  hard 
ground  and  drew  away  in  the  darkness. 

Iddo's  voice  sounded  with  fear.  "Mercy — mercy  1 
But  I  swear  to  you  he  is  dead.  Ask  the  soldiers,  if 
they  come  again;  ask  them  if  His  body  was  not 
stolen  from  the  sepulchre.  All  the  world  knows  He 
is  dead.  It  is  no  secret;  He  was  held  high  upon  the 
mount  that  men  might  see  Him  die!  " 

"But  He  is  the  Christ,"  cried  Adnah,  "I  know 
He  is  the  Christ!  " 

Iddo  lay  still,  his  fear  of  death  contending  with 
his  inborn  prejudices.  The  Pharisaical  spirit  gained 
the  mastery,  and  he  said,  "  Give  me  a  proof,  Adnah, 
—one  proof!" 

"  How  can  I  argue  against  your  wisdom,  Iddo?" 
exclaimed  the  other  in  distress.  "You  know  how 
ignorant  I  am, — who  should  know  better?  Did 
you  never  hear  Him  speak  ?  Did  you  never  see  Him 
heal  the  sick  ?  Did  you  never  look  into  His  eyes  ?  " 

"  Yes — but  He  is  dead!    One  proof,  Adnah!  " 

"Oh,  Iddo,  if  I  could  tear  open  my  heart,  and 


272  Adnah 

give  you  some  of  my  faith, — the  larger  share  of  my 
treasure; — still  I  would  know  He  is  the  Christ!" 

"A  proof!  "  persisted  Iddo. 

"  Here  is  a  proof!  "  cried  Adnah.  He  put  his  arm 
about  the  prostrate  form  and  kissed  the  lips  that 
had  so  often  reviled  him.  "  It  is  not  I,  of  my  own 
power,  who  love  you,  Iddo.  But  it  is  I  with  the 
power  of  the  words  of  Jesus,  by  the  grace  of  God." 

Iddo  whispered,  "  Wonderful  is  God!  " 

"Oh,  my  poor  enemy,"  cried  Adnah  excitedly, 
"have  I  helped  you  in  any  way  to  see  plainer  the 
goodness  of  God?" 

"Yes,  my  child;  when  you  freed  me  in  the 
cave;  when  you  prayed  for  me;  and  now, — oh, 
Adnah!" 

"I  bless  you  for  those  words.  All  the  injury 
you  have  inflicted  upon  me  is  forgotten  in  the  joy 
you  give.  For  Jesus  told  me  to  do  something  I 
thought  beyond  my  power.  I  said,  'One  so 
ignorant  cannot  perform  a  miracle! ' ' 

"Surely,"  faltered  Iddo,  his  voice  broken  by 
sobs,  "whenever  one  from  his  heart  forgives  an 
enemy,  a  miracle  is  wrought  in  the  world!  What 
did  Jesus  ask  that  you  thought  so  hard?" 

"  He  said,  '  Let  your  light  so  shine  that  men  may 
see  your  good  works  and  glorify  your  Father  who 
is  in  heaven.' " 


Adnah  and  Iddo  273 

"  You  have  fulfilled  the  saying,"  said  Iddo. 

"I  can  give  you  a  greater  proof,  after  a  while," 
exclaimed  the  young  man  eagerly.  "  For  when  the 
water  rushes  through  the  grating  which  you  cannot 
see, — when  it  rises  in  this  chamber,  as  cold  as  ice, — 
and  it  is  so  dark,  you  can  only  hear  it  —  What 
would  you  do  without  me,  Iddo  ?  You  could  not 
do  without  your  Adnah  then,  I  think!  But  I  will 
lift  you  in  my  arms  and  my  Father  will  give  me 
strength  — 

"  Who?"  exclaimed  Iddo  sharply. 

"I  mean  my  other  father,  Iddo;  not  the  slave. 
And  I  will  carry  you  up  the  ladder  and  hold  you 
out  of  harm  till  the  water  has  subsided.  You  will 
be  safe  in  my  arms;  you  will  not  be  afraid!  " 

"Now  I  know,"  cried  Iddo,  "why  I  was  re 
moved  from  the  prison  where  Barabbas  was  first 
confined  with  me;  it  was  that  I  might  drown  here, 
or  perish  at  your  hands.  Well  do  they  know  that 
Sextus  would  never  fight  with  me, — but  would 
sooner  die! " 

"And  why,  Iddo?  Was  Sextus  your  friend? 
Sextus  is  the  name  of  the  gladiator;  I  am  to  stand 
before  him;  there  will  be  short  work,  then,  Iddo! 
But  come,  now,  tell  me  Jesus  did  not  die!" 

"He  died.  In  truth,  and  as  I  prize  your  mercy, 
He  died.  I  saw  Him  crucified,  I  saw  Him  taken 


274  Adnah 

from  the  cross.  There  was  a  terrible  darkness 
upon  the  world,  there  was  an  earthquake,  the  veil 
of  the  Temple  was  rent.  But  some  say  He  rose 
from  the  dead.  Some  say  He  proved  Himself  King 
over  death.  He  was  seen  many  times  and  by 
many  people."  Iddo  added  in  a  whisper  that 
thrilled  the  listener's  soul,  "Lord,  I  believe!" 
Then  he  added,  "  Adnah,  Sextus  is  your  father." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   WATCHERS 

A  THRONG  of  various  nationalities  lined  the  road 
that  led  from  the  palace  crowning  Mount  Zion,  that 
pile  of  imposing  grandeur  which  had  been  appro 
priated  by  Pilate.  Above  the  wall  of  David  tow 
ered  the  three  magnificent  palaces  of  Herod,  one  of 
them  named  in  honor  of  Mariamne,  whom  he  had 
so  cruelly  loved,  and  so  fondly  hated.  Below  these 
structures  which  man  had  fashioned  in  the  graceful 
and  airy  forms  of  fancy,  and  then  had  secured  in 
marble,  stood  the  still  more  imposing  New  Palace 
of  Herod,  inclosing  within  its  towering  walls  a 
great  extent  of  parks  and  mustering  grounds.  This 
was  the  stronghold  of  Rome  in  Jerusalem. 

That  tranquillity  might  be  secured  among  the 
waiting  throng, — for  insurrection  smouldered  every 
where,  waiting  for  the  breath  of  a  leader  to  blow  it 
into  flame, — soldiers  were  stationed  at  safe  inter 
vals.  Among  these  was  the  man  dimly  known  to 
the  reader  as  the  "merry  soldier."  He  stood  fully- 
armed,  good-naturedly  chaffing  the  Jews  and  bar- 
275 


276  Adnah 

barians  about  him,  and  when  they  saw  not  the 
force  of  his  jest,  often  driving  it  home  with  a  blow 
upon  a  sullen  head.  Whenever  the  crowd  showed 
a  disposition  to  come  to  a  standstill,  it  was  his  duty 
to  send  them  upon  their  way,  thrusting  forward  the 
wooden  handle  of  a  long  spear  when  words  proved 
ineffective.  It  was  the  day  of  the  gladiatorial  com 
bats,  and  the  city  was  crowded  with  foreigners; 
for,  since  the  downfall  of  the  amphitheatre  at 
Fidenae,  Tiberius  had  forbidden  games  in  Italy. 
The  fame  of  Pilate's  entertainment  had  gone  forth, 
bringing  the  pleasure-loving  Romans  by  every  road 
to  the  Holy  City.  Just  outside  the  city  walls  stood 
the  amphitheatre  built  by  the  procurator  of  Judea. 
The  games  had  already  begun,  and  the  blood  of 
beasts  and  slaves  was  mingling  upon  the  sands  of 
the  Land  of  Promise. 

The  Jews,  impotent  in  their  anger,  but  fascinated 
by  the  sacrilege  now  going  on,  moved  in  a  great 
loop  about  the  building,  whence  mad  shouts  and 
excited  exclamations  issued.  The  merry  soldier  at 
last  discovered  that  a  party  of  three  passed  before 
him  at  regular  intervals;  an  old  man,  a  man  in  his 
prime,  and  a  maiden.  Compassion  for  the  weari 
ness  and  misery  upon  their  faces  prompted  him  to 
address  them. 

"Go  home,  Jew  friends,  for  you  can  do  nothing 


The  Watchers  277 

here.  Man,  take  the  maiden  away.  She  can  scarce 
stand." 

"Do  not  send  us  away,"  cried  the  maiden,  in  a 
voice  of  keen  distress,  "  for  there  is  one  yonder," — 
she  pointed  towards  the  amphitheatre  whose  rear 
looked  upon  them, — "who  is  about  to  die."  The 
speaker  was  Miriam.  She  was  accompanied  by  her 
father  and  old  Zuph,  the  faithful  slave. 

The  merry  soldier  looked  closely  into  the  white, 
drawn  face  and  said  abruptly,  "  Your  lover  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Miriam. 

"You  three  may  stand  behind  me,  out  of  the 
press,"  said  the  guard.  "  But  presently  yonder  rear 
doors  will  be  thrown  open,  and  the  corpses  of  those 
who  fall  before  the  might  of  Sextus,  the  gladiator, 
will  be  carried  by  this  road.  You  will  not  stay  to 
look  upon  the  bloody  sight?" 

"  It  is  for  that  we  are  here,"  said  Joel,  supporting 
his  daughter  tenderly.  "Sir,  suffer  us  to  re 
main." 

"  Why,  so  you  shall!  There  is  no  sight  so  sweet 
as  that  of  fresh  blood, — but  I  thought  only  a  Roman 
had  a  sweet  tooth  in  his  eye." 

Miriam,  heedless  of  the  words,  strained  her  eyes 
upon  the  amphitheatre,  and  became  lost  to  the 
world  about  her.  Her  spirit  had  gone  to  suffer  be 
side  the  soul  of  Adnah.  The  merry  soldier's  atten- 


278  Adnah 

tion  was  distracted  from  the  sorrowful  group  by  a 
tumult  near  at  hand. 

"  Where  is  Barabbas  ?  "  cried  a  voice.  "  Here  is 
our  opportunity.  They  are  in  a  trap, — let  it  be 
sprung! " 

"Silence!"  retorted  another.  "Pilate  gave  us 
Jesus, — let  him  enjoy  the  games  as  his  reward!  " 

"  They  say,"  spoke  up  a  woman  who  had  caught 
a  word  or  two,  "that  Jesus  rose  from  the  dead !  " 

"I  saw  Him  after  He  was  risen!  "  shouted  an  ex 
ultant  voice. 

"It  is  false,  it  is  false! "  exclaimed  a  priest,  lifting 
his  clenched  hand  above  the  heads  of  his  compan 
ions,  and  shaking  it  at  a  man  who  was  separated 
from  him  by  a  press  of  men  and  women.  "He 
was  stolen  from  the  sepulchre  while  the  guard  slept. " 

The  man  thus  threatened  by  the  angry  gesture, 
shouted  back  in  reply,  "  But  I  saw  Him  with  mine 
own  eyes,  and  He  walked  with  Cleopas  and  me  to 
our  home,  and  as  He  explained  the  scriptures,  our 
hearts  burned.  He  sat  at  meat  with  us, — He  van 
ished  from  our  sight, — Jesus  the  Christ!  " 

There  was  a  scream  of  fury  from  the  priest  and 
his  companions,  while  the  road  became  jammed. 
Men  struggled  to  reach  the  speaker  who  thus 
calmly  struck  at  the  roots  of  their  superstition  and 
prejudice. 


The  Watchers  279 

"  Do  you  seek  to  teach  us,"  cried  one,  "  you  who 
were  born  in  your  sins, — you  who  sat,  a  blind 
beggar,  at  the  gates, — you  whom  we  cast  out  of  the 
synagogue  ?" 

"Miriam!"  whispered  old  Zuph,  "yonder  is 
Rinnah,— our  blind  beggar.  See  how  bright  are  his 
eyes! " 

Miriam  did  not  turn  her  gaze  from  the  amphi 
theatre;  her  form  shook  violently  as  a  roar  of  ap 
plause  burst  from  the  crowded  tiers  that  looked 
down  upon  the  arena. 

"Zuph,"  said  Joel  in  a  low  voice,  "let  us  call 
Rinnah;  perhaps  it  will  distract  Miriam's  mind  from 
its  agony." 

"Not  so,  my  master,"  said  the  privileged  slave. 
"  A  blind  man  may  get  back  his  eyes;  but  a  beggar 
never  sews  up  the  hole  in  his  bag." 

"Friend  Jew,"  said  the  merry  soldier,  staying 
Rinnah  with  his  hand,  "is  it  true  you  were  born 
blind?" 

"Sir,  I  was  blind  from  my  birth.  But  Jesus 
anointed  mine  eyes,  and  now  I  see.  The  years  of 
my  youth  and  early  manhood  were  shrouded  in 
gloom,  but  I  am  well  repaid  for  all  their  misery, 
since  I  have  seen  the  Christ  risen  from  the 
grave." 

"It  is  false!"  came  the  angry  chorus  from  the 


280  Adnah 

rear.  "  Never  yet  has  the  world  seen  a  man  risen 
from  the  grave." 

"  Why,  look  you!  "  cried  Rinnah  good-naturedly; 
"which  is  more  strange:  that  my  parents'  sins 
made  me  blind,  or  that  the  Son  of  God  is  conqueror 
over  death  ?" 

The  soldier  was  now  obliged  to  disperse  the  men, 
who  were  becoming  every  moment  more  threaten 
ing.  As  Rinnah  passed,  his  eyes  fell  upon  Miriam's 
face;  he  paused  involuntarily,  as  if  the  sight  of  it 
stirred  dimly  the  memory  of  a  voice  of  long  ago; 
the  next  moment  he  went  on  his  way,  and  Zuph 
sighed  with  relief. 

He  had  scarcely  vanished  around  the  amphitheatre 
when  a  sharp  voice  smote  upon  the  troubled  air; 
"Father!  Miriam!" 

This  time  Miriam  started,  and  withdrew  her  eyes 
from  the  wall  that  stood  between  her  and  Adnah. 
She  turned  and  faced  her  brother. 

"It  needed  but  this!  it  needed  but  this!"  cried 
Reuben,  who  was  pale  with  anger  and  mortifica 
tion.  "Why  are  you  here?  All  but  my  mother 
conspire  to  bring  about  my  ruin!  " 

"  Reuben!"  his  father  exclaimed  reproachfully. 

"  Maiden,"  said  the  merry  soldier,  "is  this  fellow 
displeasing  to  you  ?  Shall  I  deal  him  a  sound  blow 
upon  his  angry  pate  ?  Perchance  all  this  fury  has 


The  Watchers  281 

not  sufficient  cause.  Shall  I  give  him  fresh  cause, 
maiden  ?" 

"He  is  my  brother,"  said  Miriam,  sadly. 

"So  you  acknowledge  it,  the  more  shame  to 
you!"  cried  the  young  man.  "Ah,  Miriam,  how  I 
have  loved  you,  how  I  have  toiled  to  honor  you! 
See,  yonder  stands  your  future  husband,  watching 
you.  Go  home,  go  home  and  forget  that  a  runaway 
thief,  the  son  of  a  thief,  dies  this  day!  What  is 
this  Adnah  to  you,  with  his  iron  collar  of  shame 
about  his  evil  neck  ?  " 

Miriam's  eyes  wandered  towards  the  wealthy 
Sadducee  who  stood  not  far  away,  stroking  his 
snowy  beard.  The  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes,  and 
she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"Now  you  relent,"  cried  Reuben,  "  now  you  are 
restored  to  your  senses!  You  never  loved  me, 
Miriam,  as  I  loved  you.  You  were  always  cold  and 
selfish,  thinking  only  of  your  own  pleasure.  But 
these  tears  sue  for  you.  Go  home,  and  all  shall  be 
forgiven!" 

"Reuben,"  said  Miriam  gently,  "I  weep  be 
cause  your  words  part  us, — not  forever,  I  pray, 
but  until  they  are  forgotten.  I  must  not  see 
you  again,  Reuben,  till  the  hand  of  God  has 
wiped  from  my  memory  your  words  concerning 
Adnah." 


282  Adnah 

"  On  with  you!  "  cried  the  merry  soldier,  pushing 
Reuben  forward  with  an  impatient  hand. 

"Father,"  said  Miriam,  her  eyes  again  wandering 
towards  the  amphitheatre,  "oh,  can  there  be  a 
chance  for  Adnah  ?  " 

"No,  Miriam,  there  is  no  hope  for  him." 

"Are  you  angry  because  I  love  him  with  all  my 
heart?" 

"Angry,  dear  one?"  repeated  Joel,  his  voice 
breaking  with  a  sob. 

"You  will  not  be  displeased  with  me  ?  "  she  mur 
mured;  "you  will  not  chide  me,  father,  because 
my  heart  is  broken  ?  You  will  not  have  hard 
thoughts  of  me,  if  I  can  never  be  what  I  was  be 
fore  ?  " 

She  paused  as  there  rolled  from  the  amphitheatre 
a  mighty  peal  of  laughter.  The  sound  of  unre 
strained  mirth  brought  the  passers-by  to  a  sudden 
halt.  "Still  the  world  can  laugh!"  whispered 
Miriam. 

"Take  heart,  Miriam,"  said  old  Zuph,  stroking 
her  hand,  "  remember  you  are  not  one  of  the  com 
mon  folk.  The  vulgar  herd  should  never  see  tears 
in  these  noble  eyes!  " 

"  I  cannot  give  up  hope!  "  cried  Miriam,  catching 
her  father's  arm  violently.  "Still  they  laugh.  It 
comes  as  a  message,  bidding  us  be  of  good  cheer. 


The  Watchers  283 

There  must  be  a  way!  Gothinus  has  promised 
to  do  what  he  can  for  Adnah.  Gothinus  loves 
Adnah." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

MUST  ADNAH  DIE  ? 

THE  day  of  the  games  was  the  fifth  since  the  im 
prisonment  of  Adnah.  Every  morning  Gothinus 
had  applied  at  the  palace  for  admission  to  Pilate. 
He  felt  that  Adnah's  fate  rested  upon  himself,  and 
that  through  some  remarkable  turn  of  circum 
stances,  he  might  be  able  to  save  the  prisoner.  It 
had  been  necessary  to  state,  the  first  morning,  the 
object  of  his  visit,  and  Pilate,  who  had  no  desire  to 
lose  one  of  his  combatants,  thereby  losing  a  chance 
of  sport,  was  too  busy  to  see  Gothinus. 

On  the  second  day,  Gothinus,  when  politely  re 
fused  entrance, — for,  as  the  valued  officer  of  Lucius 
the  centurion,  he  was  entitled  to  respect, — sent  a 
letter  to  Pilate.  It  contained  a  note  from  his  mas 
ter,  showing  that  the  mule  had  been  lent  by  the 
Roman  to  the  Jew,  and  that  the  charge  of  stealing 
was  a  conspiracy.  In  his  letter  Gothinus  explained 
that  Iddo  was  guilty  of  the  crime  for  which  Adnah's 
father  was  now  in  slavery.  Had  Gothinus  known 
that  Adnah's  father  was  Sextus  the  gladiator,  he 
would  have  been  still  more  perplexed  by  the  tangle 


Must  Adnah  Die?  285 

of  circumstances.  Pilate  paid  no  attention  to  this 
letter.  He  cared  not  if  Adnah  were  innocent,  or 
guilty;  the  prisoner  had  been  brought  with  trouble 
and  expense  from  Sicily,  and  to  set  him  at  liberty, 
for  whatever  reason,  would  be  a  serious  loss. 

When  Gothinus  appeared  at  the  palace  gates  the 
third  day,  Pilate  was  annoyed  by  the  information. 
He  foresaw  the  worry  of  excuses  and  the  trouble  of 
explanations,  if  he  did  not  defend  himself.  Ac 
cordingly,  he  sent  word  to  the  importunate  friend  of 
Adnah  that  if  a  written  confession  was  brought  him 
from  Iddo,  declaring  the  innocence  of  Adnah  and  of 
Adnah's  father,  the  Jew  should  be  set  at  liberty. 
Pilate  could  well  afford  to  make  such  a  promise,  for 
he  believed  Iddo  dead. 

After  a  painful  search,  Gothinus  discovered  the 
dungeon  where  Iddo  had  first  been  confined;  but 
he  could  not  learn  whence  he  had  been  removed, 
and  no  information  was  vouchsafed  him  at  the 
palace.  The  day  of  the  combats  was  now  come; 
and  the  German,  ill  from  days  of  toil  and  sleepless 
nights,  found  all  his  exertions  useless.  He  mingled 
with  the  restless  crowd  which  circled  about  the 
amphitheatre  long  before  the  time  of  its  cruel 
sports.  In  spite  of  himself,  he  found  a  new 
thought  stirring  in  his  mind,— a  thought  which 
brought  a  swift,  wild  joy,  followed  by  a  stinging 


286  Adnah 

pain.  It  was  the  thought  that  he  had  done  all  he 
could  for  Adnah,  yet  Adnah  must  die,  and  then, — 
and  then,  at  last,  when  Miriam  had  forgotten  the 
unfortunate  Jew,  - 

As  the  soldiers  compelled  him  to  move  on, — for 
in  his  abstraction,  he  made  no  effort  to  keep  him 
self  distinct  from  the  turbulent  Jews, — his  thoughts 
dwelt  upon  the  years  that  were  gone.  There  came 
vividly  to  his  mind  the  night  when  he  leaped  into 
the  sea  to  save  Reuben.  That  was  for  Miriam's 
sake.  He  had  told  her,  "  I  ask  no  more  than  to  die 
for  you."  Did  she  ever  think  of  those  words? 
Had  she  ever  suspected  his  secret?  It  had  been  his 
duty  to  guard  it  from  her  heart,  for  Adnah's  sake, 
for  the  sake  of  his  own  promise;  for  he  had  prom 
ised  to  do  all  he  could  for  Adnah.  He  felt  that  he 
had  been  true  to  his  trust.  During  those  three  long 
years,  while  the  fate  of  the  Jew  was  hidden  in  dark 
ness,  and  no  one  save  Miriam  expected  to  see  the 
slave's  return,  that  had  still  been  his  constant 
thought:  not  that  he  might  live  happy  in  her  love, 
but  that  he  might  die  for  her.  Never  till  this  day 
had  the  dream  of  his  own  happiness  been  allowed 
to  linger  in  his  thoughts. 

"Adnah  must  die."  Gothinus  spoke  the  words 
aloud,  and  when  his  voice  ceased,  they  spoke  them 
selves  in  his  brain.  He  had  done  all  he  could  for 


Must  Adnah  Die?  287 

the  unfortunate, — he  had  even  sent  him  to  Miriam, 
—the  hardest  duty  of  all!  He  had  assured  him  of 
Miriam's  affection;  he  had  risked  his  life  as  a  pledge 
for  that  of  the  runaway.  All  had  been  in  vain; 
Adnah  must  die.  And  then  ? 

And  then,— 'perhaps,  some  reward  for  years  of 
fidelity, — some  paying  back  on  the  debt  of  a  life  of 
care  and  loneliness.  No  one  could  ever  know  how 
lonely  had  been  this  stranger  in  a  strange  land,— no 
one  but  such  another,  torn  from  the  proud  home  of 
a  chieftain,  to  become  a  slave.  He  had  been  fortu 
nate  in  such  a  master  as  Lucius.  He  had  been 
blessed  by  the  friendship  of  such  a  maiden  as 
Miriam.  She  had  prayed  for  him,  that  he  might 
always  be  her  friend.  Was  it  the  part  of  her  friend 
to  desire  to  become  something  more  ?  His  hand 
sought  his  bosom  and  drew  forth  a  coin;  it  was 
the  shekel  her  hand  had  placed  in  his,  that  night  on 
Galilee.  He  kissed  it,  and  his  deep  blue  eyes  grew 
luminous.  The  light  of  a  great  tenderness  suffused 
his  face. 

But  must  Adnah  die  ?  Since  Iddo  was  Pilate's 
prisoner,  he  would  probably  be  forced  into  the 
gladiatorial  matches;  in  that  case,  he  would  be 
crowded  with  the  others  in  the  small  cells  under 
the  amphitheatre,  situated  to  the  right  of  the  cages 
where  the  wild  beasts  were  imprisoned.  Gothinus 


288  Adnah 

had  made  no  attempt  to  gain  admittance  to  the 
prisoners. 

He  had  not  done  all  he  could  for  Adnah.  In 
truth,  he  had  not  thought  of  this  plan.  Was  it 
the  kissing  of  Miriam's  shekel  which  had  brought  a 
chance  for  Miriam  ?  In  the  coming  of  this  new 
hope,  Gothinus  smothered  the  dream  which  had  lit 
love-lamps  in  his  eyes.  An  old  look  of  care  and  re 
solve  settled  upon  his  face.  There  was  no  time  to 
be  lost,  now,  in  circling  about  the  vast  building. 
He  quickly  disengaged  himself  from  the  throng  and 
bent  his  steps  towards  the  New  Palace. 

It  was  still  early,  and  Pilate  had  not  set  forth  for 
the  games;  but  his  soldiers  were  forming  the  escort, 
and  the  great  court  was  a  scene  of  activity.  Un 
daunted  by  the  unseasonableness  of  his  visit,  the 
German  sent  in  a  letter  to  the  procurator,  craving 
admittance  to  the  gladiators,  and  permission  to 
speak  privately  with  Iddo,  the  Pharisee.  Pilate 
found  it  easy  to  accede  to  this  petition,  thereby 
strengthening  the  tie  between  him  and  his  centur 
ion;  and,  cold  and  impassive  as  he  was,  he  could 
not  restrain  a  smile  as  he  wrote  the  permission. 

Gothinus  carried  the  parchment  with  rapid  strides 
to  the  rear  of  the  amphitheatre,  whose  small  doors 
were  closely  guarded  by  Roman  soldiers. 

"Why,  look  you,  friend,"  said  the  captain,  after 


Must  Adnah  Die?  289 

reading  the  order,  "if  you  would  speak  privately 
with  Iddo,  go  seek  a  new  witch  of  Endor,  for  it 
was  thus  your  King  Saul,  as  I  have  been  told,  held 
converse  with  the  dead." 

Gothinus  shrank  back  as  from  a  blow.  "  Is  Iddo 
dead  ?  "  he  faltered. 

"As  dead  as  any  Jew,"  was  the  reply.  "This 
Iddo  was  considered  some  great  one  by  his  swine- 
hating,  spoil-sport  tribe,  and  Pilate,  by  my  shrewd 
guess,  had  no  mind  to  stir  up  the  people  by  a  new 
crucifixion.  Gothinus,  you  have  heard  of  the  fel 
low  Adnah,  Iddo's  nephew  ?  I  remember  you  once 
staked  your  life  upon  his  return  to  captivity.  It 
was  Iddo  who  caused  Adnah's  downfall,  and  we 
were  ordered  to  shut  them  up  in  the  same  dungeon, 
Iddo  securely  bound,  but  the  young  man  free  to 
tear  his  enemy  to  pieces.  The  water  was  turned 
upon  them,  that  he  who  did  not  climb  to  the  ceil 
ing,  might  be  drowned.  Thus  Iddo  perished,  if 
not  by  Adnah's  fingers,  then  by  the  water.  But  in 
truth,  I  doubt  not  Iddo  fell  a  victim  to  the  revenge 
of  Adnah.  If  it  did  not  happen  so,  then,  by  my 
sword!  there  is  no  spirit  in  the  Jew's  body." 

"Iddo  is  dead!"  Gothinus  repeated,  still  dazed 
by  this  unexpected  news.  Suddenly  he  under 
stood  the  irony  of  Pilate's  promise.  He  added  with 
conviction,  "  And  Adnah  must  surely  die!" 


290  Adnah 

"Surely,"  returned  the  captain,  "for  who  can 
overcome  our  Sextus  ?  Not  such  a  weak,  emaciated 
slave,  half-starved,  and  wholly  untrained!  Take 
heart,  Gothinus,  not  a  dog-Jew  of  the  pack  will  be 
left  to  bark  against  Rome." 

As  the  hours  passed  by,  and  day  drew  towards 
evening,  Gothinus,  ever  mingling  with  the  restless 
crowd,  at  last  discovered  Miriam  with  her  father 
and  old  Zuph,  standing  behind  the  merry  soldier. 
Miriam's  eyes  were  strained  upon  the  amphitheatre, 
and  the  tragedy  written  in  her  face,  wrecked  for 
ever  his  evanescent  hope  of  love.  She  was  not 
for  him,  though  Adnah  die.  This  knowledge  did 
not  spur  him  to  greater  exertions,  because  he  had 
done  all  he  could,  but  it  caused  him  to  rage  against 
his  impotence.  He  drew  near,  for  misfortune  drives 
men  together  as  flocks  and  herds  are  huddled  be 
fore  a  northern  blast.  They  did  not  see  him.  He 
had  not  the  heart  to  impose  himself  upon  Miriam's 
sorrow,  yet  it  seemed  that  he  could  not  leave  her  in 
this  bitter  hour. 

While  he  paused,  a  soldier  ran  up  with  a  face  of 
distress.  "Quintilius!  Quintilius!  "  he  cried  to  the 
merry  soldier,  "  we  are  undone!  The  gladi 
ator's  brother  has  been  carried  to  the  amphi 
theatre." 

"  Impossible!  "  retorted  the  merry  soldier.     "  He 


Must  Adnah  Die?  291 

was  given  special  and  private  death  at  the  hands  of 
his  nephew." 

"But  his  body  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  dun 
geon,"  cried  the  other  in  a  voice  of  alarm.  "  This 
morning  the  wardens  collected  all  prisoners  from 
the  dungeons  to  swell  the  list.  I  did  not  look  them 
over,  believing  Iddo  drowned  or  slain  by  his  enemy. 
But  his  body  is  not  to  be  found.  Now  comes  one 
who  remembers  dragging  forth  both  a  young  man, 
and  a  man  spent  beyond  his  prime!  He  tells  me 
the  older  of  the  wretches  bore  heavy  chains." 

"Then  how  did  he  escape  drowning,  comrade?" 

"The  young  man  did  hold  him  up  out  of  the 
reach  of  water,  every  time  we  sent  them  a  bath. 
It  could  have  been  in  no  other  manner." 

The  merry  soldier  laughed.  "Iddo  was  the  fel 
low's  deadly  enemy.  Fear  not!  Adnah  would  not 
so  comfort  his  villainous  old  uncle  in  his  arms!  " 

"  But  he  is  gone,  I  tell  you;  he  is  in  the  amphi 
theatre.  Sextus  will  confront  him  and  instantly 
recognize  Iddo  as  his  brother.  Then  he  will  know 
Adnah  to  be  his  son.  He  will  refuse  to  wrestle 
with  them;  then  the  master  of  the  games  will  slay 
him.  Pilate  will  lose  his  gladiator, — and  we  shall 
be  blamed!  " 

"  We?  Nay,  you  alone,  comrade!  My  part  of  the 
affair  ended  when  I  caged  the  two  rats  together. 


292  Adnah 

Make  no  stir,  now,  for  it  is  too  late  for  anything 
but  regrets.  Home  with  you,  and  enjoy  them  to 
your  fill.  The  games  are  by  this  time  nearly  ended. 
Doubtless  Sextus  has  already  lost  his  head  from  re 
fusing  to  engage  his  precious  brother!  " 

Gothinus  waited  to  hear  no  more.  Dizzy  from 
what  he  had  learned,  and  tortured  by  the  thought 
that  he  might  be  too  late,  he  forced  his  way 
through  the  people,  and  rushed  with  extended 
hands,  as  if  half-blinded,  toward  the  doors  that 
opened  upon  the  vomitories  at  the  rear  of  the 
amphitheatre. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  GLADIATOR'S  LAST  STRUGGLE 

ALL  eyes  in  the  vast  amphitheatre  were  directed 
toward  one  spot  in  the  blood-soaked  arena,  while 
a  breathless  silence  pervaded  the  building.  The 
drama  of  mockery  and  despair  was  drawing  to  an 
end.  The  wild  beasts  had  strewn  the  sands  with 
the  mangled  limbs  of  slaves.  Then  Sextus  the 
gladiator  had  become  the  hero  of  the  day.  It  was 
his  part  of  the  day's  amusement  to  wrestle  with 
twenty  prisoners;  he  who  should  cast  him  upon 
the  ground  was  promised  liberty;  and  he  whom 
Sextus  should  throw  was  promised  death.  As 
Gothinus  entered  the  amphitheatre,  bearing  a  letter 
for  Pilate,  Sextus  was  engaged  with  his  eighteenth 
antagonist. 

Gothinus  received  a  stern  rebuke  when  he  urged 
that  he  be  conducted  at  once  to  Pilate,  who  occupied 
the  seat  of  state,  near  the  wooden  rollers  which 
protected  the  mouth  of  the  bloody  enclosure. 
Gothinus  insisted  that  a  life  hung  upon  a  moment's 
delay.  He  was  savagely  silenced.  When  the  pres 
ent  match  was  ended,  he  might  go  forward;  but 

293 


294  Adnah 

to  break  the  delicious  tension  of  this  match  by  pass 
ing  between  the  tiers  of  benches  would  be  worse 
than  criminal.  It  was  not  enough  that  the  spec 
tators  should  witness  the  rush  of  blood  and  the 
tearing  of  flesh;  the  lions  had  gratified  that  ardent 
craving.  It  was  now  necessary  that  skill  and  un 
certainty  should  add  zest  to  slaughter.  Gothinus 
did  not  feel  the  humiliation  that  a  Jew  would  have 
experienced  in  this  desecration  of  holy  ground,  but 
neither  had  he  a  Roman's  thirst  for  cruel  sports. 
His  heart  revolted  as  his  eyes  swept  the  upper  seats, 
filled  with  gaily  dressed  women,  who  leaned  for 
ward  breathless,  their  lips  parted  in  rapturous  sus 
pense.  Romans  from  Czeserea,  Herodium  and  even 
far  away  Italy,  made  up  the  countless  audience, 
while  a  sprinkling  of  priests  of  Jupiter,  Apollo  and 
Minerva,  gave  a  religious  seasoning  to  the  whole. 

Gothinus,  after  sweeping  the  building  with  im 
patient  eyes,  looked  down  upon  the  arena.  Sextus 
and  a  gigantic  Thracian  stood  with  arms  locked 
about  each  other's  waists,  their  bare  limbs  motion 
less.  Apparently  they  were  resting,  or  had  just 
fallen  forward  in  friendly  embrace.  In  reality  they 
were  in  the  throes  of  a  deadly  struggle.  As  Gothi 
nus  strained  his  eyes,  even  from  his  distant  position 
at  the  entrance  he  could  see  the  muscles  knot  them 
selves  upon  the  naked  arms. 


The  Gladiator's  Last  Struggle        295 

Sextus  was  weary.  At  first  it  had  been  an  easy 
matter  to  cast  his  opponent  headlong  upon  the 
sands,  there  to  be  dispatched  by  one  of  the  masters 
of  the  games,  who  in  red  uniform,  even  now 
stood  waiting  to  slay  him  who  should  fall.  But 
among  the  seventeen  who  had  gone  before,  not  a 
few  had  been  men  of  powerful  build,  and  if  less 
skilful  than  a  trained  gladiator,  nevertheless  en 
dowed  with  prodigal  strength;  and  each  of  the  sev 
enteen  had  been  strengthened  by  the  lust  of  liberty 
and  the  despair  of  death.  But  every  time  Sextus 
hurled  a  foe  upon  the  ground,  he  realized  that  it  meant 
nothing  to  him  but  a  longer  captivity.  Now,  as  he 
found  it  necessary  to  exert  all  his  strength  to  pre 
serve  his  equilibrium,  the  thought  came, — Why 
not  fall  and  receive  dismissal  from  a  life  of  bond 
age  ?  Defeat  must  come  some  time.  He  believed 
Adnah  enjoying  the  honors  of  Herod's  court,  and  Iddo 
a  man  of  authority  among  his  people.  What  was 
there  to  live  for  ?  Yes,  he  would  relax  his  grasp, 
and  suffer  himself  to  be  overcome. 

But  as  he  found  his  form  swayed  in  the  Thracian's 
arms,  his  old  instinct  for  mastery  rushed  upon  him, 
and  his  purpose  was  forgotten.  The  deathlike  si 
lence  was  a  voice  bidding  him  maintain  the  prestige 
of  his  name.  He  knew  all  eyes  were  upon  him, 
and  like  a  spur  to  a  weary  steed,  came  the  memory 


296  Adnah 

of  former  applause.  To  hear  the  air  rent  with  mad 
shouts  of  congratulation, — was  not  that  worth  the 
price  of  living  ?  He  thirsted  for  the  applause  which 
he,  though  a  slave,  could  force  from  the  lips  of  free 
Romans. 

As  Gothinus,  fascinated,  stared  down  upon  the 
still  picture,  he  saw  it  move.  One  of  the  Thracian's 
legs  was  forced  backward.  A  step  was  lost,  and 
that  step  meant  a  life.  The  vast  concourse  sighed 
in  the  intensity  of  its  excitement,  and  the  breath 
sounded  like  the  rushing  of  a  wind  over  the  un 
covered  building.  Another  moment  and  the  air 
was  rent  with  shouts  and  acclaims. 

"Sextus!  Sextus!  Long  life!"  TheThracianlay 
upon  his  back,  while  a  master  of  the  arena  stood  with 
one  foot  upon  the  heaving  bosom,  his  sword  at  the 
neck  from  which  the  sweat  rolled.  The  Roman  looked 
up,  to  see  if  mercy  sat  in  the  benches.  There  was 
a  flashing  of  innumerable  jeweled  hands,  like  the 
rippling  of  sunbeams  from  the  women's  benches 
to  the  seat  of  Pilate.  Every  thumb  was  turned 
down.  The  sword  descended,  and  the  Thracian 
quivered  and  lay  dead.  Sextus  stood  with  folded 
arms  upon  his  broad  bare  breast,  breathing  rapidly, 
but  ready  for  his  next  antagonist.  The  applause 
had  renewed  his  strength. 

Gothinus,  who  had  been  compelled  to  wait  for 


The  Gladiator's  Last  Struggle        297 

this  moment,  now  hurried  down  one  of  the  long 
aisles,  and  making  his  way  to  the  guard  who  sur 
rounded  Pilate,  presented  his  letter.  During  the  in 
termission  in  the  sports,  the  audience  laughed  and 
talked,  and  the  waves  of  sound  rolled  like  billows 
muffled  upon  the  sands.  In  that  letter  was  Iddo's 
confession,  which  Gothinus  had  without  difficulty 
obtained  from  the  doomed  man.  Upon  Pilate's 
reading  of  the  letter  depended  Adnah's  fate  and  the 
happiness  of  Miriam, — and  the  end  of  the  dream  of 
Gothinus. 

Leisurely  and  with  his  impenetrable  look  upon 
his  cold  and  handsome  face,  the  procurator 
opened  the  parchment,  after  one  brief  disquieted 
glance  at  the  messenger.  Gothinus  kept  his  eyes 
upon  the  Roman's  face,  while  the  supreme  moment 
brought  back  the  dizziness  that  had  seized  him  upon 
learning  that  Iddo  still  lived.  He  did  not  see  what 
was  going  forward  in  the  arena.  Suddenly  the  air 
was  shaken  by  a  mighty  laugh.  It  seemed  that  every 
voice  in  the  building  had  found  a  note  of  merri 
ment.  Even  the  shrill  laughter  from  the  highest 
benches  made  itself  heard  in  sharp,  broken  frag 
ments  of  ironic  mirth.  Pilate,  who  had  begun  to 
read,  laid  the  letter  upon  his  knee  and  looked 
below. 

The  last  of  the  twenty  prisoners  had  been  brought 


298  Adnah 

in  together.  They  were  a  middle-aged  man,  and 
one  of  younger  years,  both  clothed  in  miserable 
rags,  which  were  wet  and  grimy  from  the  dungeon, 
and  through  which  their  thin  limbs  were  visible. 
The  elder  could  scarcely  stand,  and  red  scars  showed 
where  iron  bands  had  lain  with  cruel  weight. 
The  younger  was  erect,  and  sure  of  foot,  but  very 
weak.  His  long  unkempt  hair  fell  about  his  face, 
and  he  made  no  effort  to  brush  it  back.  Gothinus 
groaned.  Here  were  Iddo  and  Adnah, — and  Iddo's 
confession  still  unread. 

"  My  lord!"  cried  Gothinus  falling  upon  his  knees 
before  the  procurator,  "your  promise!  Read,  O, 
read  the  confession  of  Iddo!  " 

Pilate  silenced  him  with  a  haughty  gesture,  his 
eyes  intent  upon  the  strange  scene.  Adnah  in  his 
dress  of  wild  skins  with  the  iron  collar  of  a  thief 
about  his  neck,  stood  staring  upon  the  sands,  as  if 
he  saw  no  honor  and  no  hope  in  its  writing  of 
blood.  Sextus,  with  arms  still  folded  upon  his 
hairy  breast,  grinned  at  the  miserable  figures,  then 
looked  up  at  the  spectators  to  answer  their  laughter 
with  a  broad  smile.  Suddenly  the  young  man 
stepped  forward  to  encounter  the  gladiator,  his 
eyes  still  downcast;  for  he  knew  this  was  his 
father,  whose  memory  had  sweetened  bitter  days; 
and  it  was  his  purpose  to  fall  unrecognized  in  that 


The  Gladiator's  Last  Struggle        299 

embrace.  Still  smiling,  Sextus  threw  his  burly 
arms  about  the  other,  and  looked  over  at  the  twen 
tieth  prisoner,  shouting  a  jovial  promise  to  soon 
come  to  his  arms.  But  the  next  moment  the  light 
died  from  the  gladiator's  face;  he  had  recognized 
his  brother.  With  an  inarticulate  cry  he  sprang 
back,  and  clutched  at  the  air  as  if  about  to  fall. 

"  Iddo!  "  he  cried.  The  Pharisee  made,  no  reply. 
He  had  promised  Adnah  to  keep  the  secret  of  their 
identity.  Sextus  glared  upon  the  wretched  form  in 
speechless  amazement.  Then  moved  by  a  sudden 
thought,  he  turned  upon  the  young  man,  and  seiz 
ing  his  chin,  threw  back  his  head  and  gazed  in 
tently  upon  his  face.  The  laughter  of  the  throng 
died  away,  and  a  feeling  half  of  awe,  half  of  im 
patience,  swept  from  heart  to  heart. 

Gothinus,  still  upon  his  knees,  raised  his  clasped 
hands  toward  Pilate  crying,  "Read,  read,  READ!" 

Suddenly  the  gladiator  threw  his  arms  about 
Adnah,  and  lifting  him  from  the  ground  in  a  close 
embrace, — kissed  him.  Then  he  turned  to  those 
whose  applause  had  been  so  sweet  to  him,  and  held 
out  his  arms  as  if  he  would  embrace  their  feet  for 
mercy. 

First  came  a  shock  of  indignant  surprise.  Then 
rose  the  fierce  cry,  "Death!  death!"  The  delay 
had  aroused  with  fresher  fury  their  thirst  for  a  sight 


300  Adnah 

of  blood.  They  saw  Sextus  and  Adnah  whispering 
in  hurried  tones,  while  the  young  man  violently 
shook  his  head,  and  the  other  as  resolutely  nodded 
his  purpose.  The  tumult  in  the  audience  grew 
more  rife  and  Pilate,  as  if  to  show  himself  insensi 
ble  to  all  emotions,  again  began  to  read  the  letter. 

Suddenly  Sextus  seized  the  young  prisoner,  and 
for  a  moment  swayed  him  back  and  forth,  as  if  in 
equal  contest,  then  fell  as  if  thrown  by  Adnah,  and 
clutching  his  son's  foot,  held  it  upon  his  breast. 
Adnah  in  an  agony  of  grief,  sank  upon  his  other 
knee,  imploring  his  father  to  rise.  But  the  gladia 
tor,  holding  the  foot  upon  his  bosom,  turned  his 
eyes  towards  those  who  had  so  often  hailed  his 
triumphs,  and  begged  for  mercy.  The  spectators, 
furious  at  this  termination  of  the  match,  screamed 
in  derision.  The  executioner  who  strode  forward, 
looked  up  with  a  scornful  smile,  anticipating  the 
fate  of  Sextus. 

The  spectators  angrily  turned  down  their  thumbs, 
as  if  pointing  Sextus  to  his  grave. 

Then  the  executioner  wheeled  about  and  his  ter 
rible  sword  descended,  and  the  blood  of  the 
Romans  danced  in  mad  joy  to  see  blood  as  warm 
and  as  full  of  life  as  that  in  their  own  veins,  gush 
out  upon  the  reeking  sands.  It  was  such  moments 
of  fierce  delight  that  paid  them  for  being  Romans. 


The  Gladiator's  Last  Struggle        301 

For  it  is  good  to  be  alive  and  strong,  when  one 
looks  upon  death.  But  the  blood  which  stained  the 
arena  was  not  that  of  the  gladiator.  He  had  been 
saved  by  a  form  springing  between  his  prostrate 
body  and  the  flashing  blade  of  the  executioner. 

The  corpse  of  him  who  had  given  his  life  for 
Sextus  was  dragged  aside  without  pity,  and  the 
executioner,  impatient  of  delay,  glanced  hastily  up, 
shaking  the  red  drops  from  his  hands.  At  that 
moment  Pilate,  who  had  finished  reading  the  con 
fession,  arose. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

IDDO'S   VICTORY 

THERE  was  the  sound  of  the  vast  audience  rising 
and  moving  towards  the  arched  entrances  of  the 
amphitheatre.  The  day  of  sports  was  ended. 
Those  who  stood  on  the  street  in  the  rear,  fastened 
their  eyes  upon  the  low  doors,  through  which  cap 
tives  had  been  dragged  to  the  arena,  and  through 
which  the  corpses  of  those  thrown  by  the  wrestler 
would  presently  be  borne.  Among  these  watchers 
were  the  curious,  who  had  not  been  able  to  com 
mand  the  price  of  admission;  the  hypocritical, 
who,  because  of  connection  with  the  Jews,  pre 
tended  to  despise  Roman  games;  and  a  few  friends 
of  the  victims.  The  soldiers  allowed  the  people  to 
stand,  for  the  dangerous  element  had  melted  before 
the  approaching  scene  of  horror.  Those  inclined 
towards  revolution  had  hurried  to  the  main  roads, 
to  glare  upon  the  foreigners  returning  from  their 
pleasure. 

"Miriam,"  said  her  father  suddenly,  "  close  your 
eyes.  The  rear  of  the  amphitheatre  has  been 
thrown  open,  and  death  comes  this  way." 

"That  is  the  first  corpse,"  said  old  Zuph.     "Some 
302 


Iddo's  Victory  303 

Thracian,  I  think,  though  it  is  difficult  to  tell,  since 
his  head, — most  horrible!  " 

Miriam  clung  to  her  father  and  buried  her  face 
upon  his  breast.  "You  are  sure  it  is  not — it  is 
not ?" 

"Be  assured,"  Joel  answered,  "it  is  not  he." 

There  was  a  groan  from  the  watchers,  and  the 
maiden  whispered,  "Another?" 

"Yes, — two.     .    .    .    Five.    .    .    .  Six.    .    .    ." 

"You  will  tell  me,  father,  when  Adnah  is 
brought  forth  ?  " 

"Yes,  dear  one." 

"  I  have  waited  while  he  passed  from  life  to  Life," 
murmured  Miriam.  "I  will  look  upon  him  in  his 
death.  I  shall  always  know  that  one  who  loved 
him  stood  near  in  his  time  of  agony.  .  .  .  That 
will  be  a  sweet  thought,  some  day.  .  .  .  Is  it 
growing  dark?" 

"Eleven,"  said  old  Zuph,  "  twelve." 

"Father — I  am  growing  faint.  Support  me. 
Oh!  if  I  should  swoon  while  he  is  being  borne 
along!  My  brain  seems  turning  round.  If  I  .  .  . 
If  I  fall,  do  you  look  upon  him,  father,  and  give  him 
a  last  look  of  love." 

"Miriam,"  cried  Zuph,  helping  to  support  her, 
"remember  that  you  are  the  daughter  of  a  noble 
man!  " 


304  Adnah 

The  air  was  broken  by  tumultuous  shouts: 
"Long  life!  long  life  to  Sextus!  Long  life  to  our 
gladiator!  " 

"As  Jupiter  reigns!"  shouted  the  merry  soldier 
in  a  stentorian  voice,  relief  adding  force  to  his  high 
note,  "Sextus  survives  though  his  son  stood  him 
face  to  face  in  the  arena!  " 

"It  is  the  gladiator!"  cried  Zuph,  staring  at  an 
approaching  form.  "But  who  walks  with  him? 

Canitbe Look,  Miriam,  look!  Hide  no  longer 

your  eyes! " 

"  It  is  Adnah!  "  said  Joel,  his  voice  breaking. 

"Sextus  is  his  father,"  observed  the  merry  sol 
dier.  "Ho,  ho!  maiden,  is  Adnah  the  lover  for 
whom  you  came  to  mourn  ?  See  how  erect  and 
proud  his  head,  as  he  walks  beside  his  new-found 
father!" 

"Adnah  lives!"  said  Joel  in  a  choking  voice. 
"  Miriam,  can  you  bear  this  sudden  joy  ?" 

In  truth  the  shock  was  almost  more  than  she  could 
endure.  Her  fair  head  fell  upon  his  shoulder,  and 
for  a  time  it  seemed  that  they  must  place  her  upon  the 
ground. 

"Father  and  son,"  murmured  Joel  to  himself; 
"  father  and  son,  both  alive  and  well.  .  .  .  Ah, 
Reuben,  Reuben!  " 

"Miriam,"    said    Zuph    coaxingly,   "they  draw 


Iddo's  Victory  305 

near.  Have  a  brave  heart.  Courage,  Miriam, 
stand  firm!  Remember  your  degree!  " 

"Zuph!"  faltered  Miriam,  lifting  her  head,  "I 
could  not  love  you  better,  were  I  a  slave."  With 
one  arm  about  her  father's  neck,  and  the  other  hand 
resting  upon  the  old  slave's  shoulder,  she  faced  the 
road. 

There  they  came,  Adnah  from  whose  neck  the 
iron  band  had  been  struck,  and  simple-hearted  Sam 
uel, — Sextus  the  gladiator,  never  more.  A  cloak 
had  been  thrown  about  the  young  man,  and  as  he 
moved  along,  his  arm  about  his  father,  he  possessed 
an  air  of  gentle  majesty  which  suited  well  the  radi 
ant  glow  of  his  eyes. 

Miriam  called,  "  Adnah  !  " 

Adnah  stood  still.  "  Listen,  my  father,"  he  said, 
"My  other  Father  has  sent  me  a  voice.  Did  you 
hear  it  ?  Whence  came  my  name  in  that  tone  ? 
Heaven  has  been  about  me  all  this  day  and — look! — 
there,  there  is  the  angel!"  He  dragged  Samuel 
towards  the  spot  where  the  merry  soldier  guarded 
the  road. 

"  Now,"  said  Miriam  to  her  father  with  a  look  of 
angelic  tenderness,"!  can  stand  alone!"  She 
stepped  forward. 

"  Miriam !  "  said  Adnah  in  a  broken  voice,  looking 
at  her  with  heaving  breast,  helpless  to  utter  another 


306  Adnah 

word,  unable  even  to  advance.  Her  form  seemed 
illuminated  by  an  inward  light,  and  he  thought  her  an 
angel,  indeed,  the  angel  of  hope  which  had  come  to 
him  in  his  desolate  childhood.  He  seemed  to  see 
beyond  her  fair  face  and  tremulous  smile,  Sicily  for 
a  background, — the  sheep  in  the  wild  meadows, — 
the  faithful  dog, — the  lonely  path  that  wound  up  the 
mountainside, — the  desolate  hut  with  its  couch  of 
sodden  straw.  A  sense  of  her  virgin  purity  and  of 
the  darkness  through  which  he  had  struggled,  held 
him  to  the  spot  as  if  a  great  gulf  lay  between  them. 

"Oh,  Adnah,  I  am  so  glad,  so  happy, — what  can 
I  say, — a  simple  maiden  who  lacks  all  knowledge! 
If  I  could  tell  you !  I  came  to  look  upon  a  corpse, — 
your  corpse,  Adnah!  And  you  are  so  strong  and 
tall  and  well — and  walking  beside  your  father, — 
Adnah,  I  could  kiss  you  for  my  very  joy  .  .  . 
and  for  my  very  love!" 

"  I  will  not  say  I  am  too  unworthy,"  faltered  the 
young  man,  pale  from  happiness,  "since  I,  too,  am 
a  child  of  God."  He  kissed  her. 

Samuel  turned  to  Zuph;  "I  have  but  found  my 
son, — see  how  he  deserts  me." 

"I  like  this,"  said  the  merry  soldier.  "Sweet 
love  blesses  the  day.  It  is  like  incense  to  the  gods. 
But  maiden,  hide  your  eyes;  here  comes  another 
corpse, — surely,  the  last." 


Iddo's  Victory  307 

"Nay,  Miriam,"  cried  Adnah  reverently,  "hide 
not  your  eyes.  Let  all  turn  and  look  upon  Iddo  as 
he  is  borne  past — upon  my  uncle  who  wronged  my 
father,  but  who  expiated  his  crime  in  the  arena. 
He  threw  his  body  between  the  sword  and  my 
father's  heart.  This  is  for  him  no  dismal  funeral, 
but  a  procession  of  triumph.  There  lies  a  great 
conqueror;  he  subdued  himself." 

"Poor,  erring  brother!"  murmured  Samuel,  the 
tears  streaming  down  his  face.  He  found  himself 
still  unable  to  comprehend  Iddo's  real  life. 

"There  is  a  smile  upon  his  face,"  observed  the 
merry  soldier.  "  I  never  saw  such  a  death-smile!  " 

"Brave  Iddo!"  Adnah  exclaimed.  "He  tri 
umphed  over  his  evil  nature.  Death  is  glorious 
when  it  breathes  upon  a  man  and  changes  him  to  a 
hero." 

They  stood  silently  with  bowed  heads  till  Iddo 
had  been  carried  past.  Then  Adnah  looked  up  sud 
denly,  saying,  "  But  where  is  Gothinus  ?  " 

Zuph  muttered  to  himself,  "  At  least  this  Adnah 
is  a  Jew !  "  The  old  slave  was  the  only  one  who  had 
divined  the  secret  of  Gothinus.  Since  Adnah's  pov 
erty  and  low  estate  could  not  but  displease  the  jeal 
ous  old  man,  he  found  what  comfort  he  could  in  the 
nationality  of  Miriam's  lover. 

Miriam  looked  towards  the  amphitheatre  and  saw 


308  Adnah 

a  young  man  suddenly  turn  his  head  from  her  direc 
tion,  as  if  he  had  been  watching  her. 

"  There  he  is!  "  cried  Adnah  excitedly,  following 
the  direction  of  her  eyes.  "  It  was  he  who  caused 
Iddo  to  write  Pilate  the  letter  which  saved  our  lives. 
As  soon  as  my  uncle  was  slain  Pilate  arose  and  read 
it  aloud,  and  gave  my  father  and  me  our  liberty. 
We  could  not  believe  Gothinus  able  to  gain  the  ear 
of  the  procurator.  And  now  we  have  forgotten 
him! " 

Adnah  raised  his  voice  and  called,  "  Gothinus!" 

The  tall  northerner  looked  over  the  heads  of  the 
intervening  crowd,  and  smiled  with  wonderful 
sweetness. 

"Adnah!"  exclaimed  Miriam,  "  see  how  he  loves 
you! " 


THE  END 


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